Coming Out
by Howling1
Summary: Stewie has a secret, and Brian’s going to find out what it is, whether he wants to or not. Meanwhile, Peter decides to be a ninja, Jasper’s puppies are due, and Bertram has a grudge to settle. Please R&R!
1. Normalcy

The madness all began when, one morning, Stewie was arguing with Brian at breakfast. As per usual.

"I'm simply _saying_," said Stewie his eyebrow twitching with annoyance as he spooned his food into his mouth, "that in my experience, almost anything can be taken sexually if you word it right."

"You sound like Quagmire," Brian retorted, as he cut his pancakes. "I thought you loathed him."

"Oh, but I do! But as disgusting as the man is, he has a point. Go on, go on, watch this." Stewie put down his fork and pointed his finger at nothing in particular, adopting a suave expression and a deep voice. "Oh, baby, I'm going to _open_ the _door._"

Brian rolled his eyes, but played along. "Okay, uh ... oh, sugar," he started, looking around for something random, "I'm going to, uh, _butter_ the _pancakes._"

Stewie snickered uncontrollably, and Brian raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on!" said Stewie, spreading his arms. "If you just _use_ your _imagination_, almost anything can be sensual! Think about it for a minute. I'll let your mind wander on the whole 'butter and pancakes' idea."

Brian sat for a minute, and in spite of himself, his brain went to work. The dog's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh God. Oh _God!_" he shouted, covering his eyes. "The _images! Get the images out of my mind!_"

Stewie chuckled evilly. "It's almost as bad as that time when Peter saw Britney Spears' private areas."

* * *

Britney Spears came out of the public restroom (barefoot, strangely enough) and sat down on a picnic table, crossing her legs.

"Heeeey, Britney," came a gleeful voice, and a shocked Mrs. Spears looked down: Peter was lying under her seat and staring upward, at the place where her underwear would normally be. Peter's eyes widened. "Oooh, hey! A peep show!"

Britney kicked Peter in the gonads. Hard.

"Hah, nice try, but unlike you _I'm wearing_ underwear — OHHH, GOD!!" Peter cried, as the pain hit him, and he rolled away from the table, clutching at his privates. "AW, GAWD! AHH, GEEZ, that is _not_ cool! _NOT COOL!_ Ohhhh, awww, ooooh..."

Peter carried on like that for several minutes, oblivious to the fact that Britney had packed up and left. And she had pulled out, and used, a spare set of underwear from her purse.

* * *

Stewie leaned on the arm of the couch as he watched TV, the remote on the cushion beside him. He picked it up and flipped through a few channels. He saw a few bits: "I want to go where no man has gone before" — BZZT — "I have great news ... I'm pregnant!" WHACK — BZZT — "He committed —" BZZT — before the baby finally settled on channel 58.

"Hmm, _The Simpsons?_ Never heard of it," said Stewie, as he watched the episode where Santa's Little Helper jumps into a dog race and ends up on top of the lead dog. "Although..." Stewie muttered, his eyes narrowing, "it does seem a bit ... derivative."

He flipped the channel again, and immediately gasped, covering his eyes. "Oh God! _The Teletubbies!_" Stewie squirmed uncontrollably on the cushion, trying with all his might not to watch. "Must resist — can't think — must not watch — too — addictive —"

"Stewie?" came a voice, and a furry hand scooped up the remote and hit the OFF button. Deeming it at last safe to uncover his eyes, Stewie looked up to see Brian, frowning down at him. "Oh, thank you, Brian," said Stewie, with as much dignity as he could muster, as he was still shaking uncontrollably. "Uhm — how is everything?"

"You almost got sucked into _The Teletubbies_ again, didn't you?" said Brian, as he sat down beside Stewie. "What is it about that show that drives you mad?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" shouted Stewie, clutching his fists and glaring at the blank TV screen. "It just — _demands_ to be watched! And I'm not one for demands, of course, but still — I can never seem to stay away!"

"Stewie, listen," sighed Brian. "It's just a TV show. There are more important things in life than _those_ things." The dog tossed the remote away with a flourish; it flew through the air and hit Meg in the head. Unfazed, Brian continued, "I think what you need to do is get out of the house. Enjoy some fresh air, get your mind off this stuff."

"Get out of the house? I shall do no such thing!" said Stewie defiantly, crossing his arms. "You remember that time Chris went on that mountain biking trip..."

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" came Chris's scream as he plummeted down the side of the mountain, fighting desperately to get his bike back under control. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die! I'm not ready to die!! There's a cheesecake back in the fridge back home, it has my name all over it!!"

Several yards below, Lois and Meg had pitched their tent and were now unpacking. "Sssh," Lois whispered, and Meg turned around to see her mother pulling a plastic-wrapped piece of food out of her bag. "I swiped this from the fridge," said Lois, smiling, as she unwrapped the dessert. "This way we can get to it before Chris does. Wanna share?"

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" came Chris's scream again, and the boy's bike careened into the tent; Chris was tossed off and landed in a pile of canvas, knocking the cake from Lois's hands. The cheesecake flew up into the air, turned over, and landed on Meg's head with a SQUISH. The bike, meanwhile, crashed into a tree that a beaver had been working on, and the force made the bark crack and sent the tree tumbling to the forest floor, where it squashed a number of animals including Peter, who had been out exploring. "NGAAAAHH!!" came his scream.

Totally oblivious, Chris popped up from the felled tent and noticed Meg. "Oh boy! Cheesecake!" he said, munching on a few pieces off her shoulders.

* * *

"So you see," said Stewie, "fresh air is obviously not beneficial to my health. I might as well stay inside and breath regular, processed, _indoor_ air."

"FARTING CONTEST!" came a voice, and Stewie turned to see Peter, Quagmire, Cleveland and Joe all standing together in a corner and clenching their fists. Peter ripped one first; then Cleve; then Quagmire, and finally Joe — and his was so powerful that several nearby plants drooped and died from the stench, as Brian and Stewie looked on in amazement.

"Wow, Joe, never expected that!" said Peter proudly, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"That's what makes it _so deadly_," smiled Joe.

Stewie blinked. "Okay, where will we be going?" he asked nonchalantly.


	2. Reflections

A/N: Since I forgot the disclaimer in the first chapter: Family Guy is property of Seth MacFarlane and FOX. No profit is being made. Please don't sue. Please?

* * *

"You call this outdoors?" Stewie scoffed as Brian pulled his car up in front of the town bar. "I hardly think that The Drunken Clam is an appropriate place for you to be taking me."

"What are you talking about?" Brian asked, putting the parking brake in. "I've taken you here before."

"You have?" said Stewie, eyes widening. "Then why don't I remember anything about it?"

"Well, uh ..." Brian shifted uncomfortably. "You, erm, weren't exactly sober at the time ... listen, I just need a drink for the road, then we'll go to the park," he explained, adding under his breath, "I find that whenever I'm with you, I always need a stiff drink."

"Oh, fine," said Stewie, crossing his arms. "But take me in with you. I'm not willing to bake in here under the hot sun. Like the time Peter took me to that baseball game."

* * *

Stewie sat in the car, sweating profusely and unbearably hot, as Peter and Brian cheered on the home team from inside the stadium. Beads of sweat appeared on Stewie's forehead. He didn't know how much longer he could take this.

A passing woman gasped in shock. "Is that a baby in there?" she cried, gaping at Stewie's plight.

"Oh my God!" shouted the man with her, before continuing to walk. "He's gonna miss the game!"

* * *

"Okay, whatever," said Brian, and leaned over to undo the belt buckle on Stewie's carseat. He clicked the clasp, but the noted that the belts were all twisted around each other. Brian groaned: It had been Peter who had volunteered to buckle Stewie in. "Damn it!" the dog muttered, wrestling with the belts in Stewie's lap. "It's all tangled up!"

He wrestled with the clasps for a few minutes more, noting that Stewie still hadn't said anything, which was odd, as he would usually made a dry comment about things by now. In fact, the only thing he did say eventually was, "Hey, Brian?"

"Yeah?" said the dog, ceasing struggling for a moment to look at Stewie.

The baby's eyes were closed and he had a small grin on his face. "That feels nice."

Brian's eyes widened, and he involuntarily backed his hands away from the buckle on Stewie's lap. "O ... kay," said the dog, pausing for a moment, but then he just shook his head and went back to work on the belt. As he did, though, a series of images flashed through his mind...

* * *

"I_ think," Stewie said, unaware that the 'wine' in his wine glass was actually apple juice, "you are a _special_ person." He pointed at Brian, who was grinning widely._

"_Thanks," said the dog, taking a sip of the 'wine'._

"_No, no, come on, I'm being ... I'm being serious. I will be serious here, for ... for a second. Are ...are you gonna listen to me, are you gonna listen to me so I can tell you that I ... _respect_ you." He pointed back and his wine glass fell to the ground with a smash; Stewie found this extremely funny and laughed uncontrollably for about two minutes._

* * *

"_Oh, get my back, would you?" asked Stewie, and Brian complied, scrubbing it with a fresh washcloth. "Oh, that's it. Oooh, that feels good."_

_Brian groaned. His hand only had to be stuck to Stewie's for two more days, and then the super-glue solvent would arrive._

* * *

"_Women, Brian," lamented Stewie, fresh off of his breakup with Olivia. "What a pain in the ass. It's like, it's like, why can't you just hang out with guys, you know? Just live with someone of your own sex. Just do what you would do with women, but with your buddy. You know, why don't guys just do that?"_

"_They do," replied Brian dryly. "It's called being gay."_

"_Oh, _that's_ what gay is?" said Stewie. "Oh, yeah, I could totally get into that."_

* * *

"_All right," said Brian, "it shouldn't be too hard to get ourselves kicked out."_

"_Right," replied Stewie, "we've just gotta convince them we're not army material. Ready?"_

"_All right, let's do it," said Brian, and he closed his eyes and, with a grimace, locked lips with Stewie._

_Absolutely nothing happened. So they separated, and Stewie called out to passing officers, "Wow, look at how gay we are! I'm so gay with my gayness!"_

"_Me too!" said Brian, trying to play along. "I'm ... I'm a homo." And they locked lips again. _

_Finally an officer came up to them, but his reaction wasn't what they expected. "Any room for one more?" he asked shyly, batting his hand._

"_HELL YEAH!" Stewie cried, and Brian slapped him._

* * *

_"Jillian, wait!" Brian shouted, but heard nothing but a slamming door. His girlfriend had officially walked out on him. "Dammit!" Brian cursed._

_"I'm sorry, Brian," said Stewie sympathetically, pulling up the sheet covers and resting his head on the pillow. "You'll feel better in the morning."_

_Brian sighed and turned out the light._

_"Hey," said Stewie mischievously in the darkness. "You know what you should do? You should have sex with somebody else just to get back at her for walking out on you. Just, just have sex with somebody. Anybody. Just don__'__t, don't even think about it — the next person you see. The _very_ next person you see."_

_Brian opened his eyes again to find that Stewie had turned on the light and was sitting in front of his face, smiling hopefully._

_Brian punched Stewie off the bed and went back to sleep.__  
_

* * *

_Stewie sighed as he looked down at Brian's hopeless, despondent figure. The dog took another swig from the wine bottle he was cluthing like his life depended on it, and some of it sloshed down his front and mixed with the water in the gutter. The gutter which he was currently lying in._

_"Brian, your problem is, you think that just because you're not in control, nothing matters," Stewie said honestly. "Th-that _you_ don't matter. But you know what?" Stewie placed his hand on Brian's shoulder, looking away. "You matter to _someone_. You ... matter big time..." His eyes filled with tears and he ran off, leaving Brian staring after him in wonderment.  
_

* * *

_Stewie gasped. "Here they come! Kiss me!"_

_Brian obliged, and to the passing Meg and Adam West they looked like a handsome bachelor and a hot chick (Stewie preferred disguising himself with a dress) out on a date. Finally the two left, and Brian pulled away. "Come on, we gotta follow them!" _

_Brian jumped down and raced after them, but Stewie remained where he was, still in the embrace. Eventually Brian came back. "Stewie?"_

"_Huh? Oh..." Stewie finally realized his position, and opened his eyes._

"_Everything all right?" Brian asked._

"_Oh, uh, yeah. Uh ... hey, listen, freakin' shot in the dark — do you wanna _do_ something sometime?"_

* * *

"_I love you," Stewie whispered, as he ballroom-danced with Brian._

"_What? What'd you say?" said Brian angrily, certain he'd misheard._

"_Oh! Uh ..." Stewie thought quickly, "...olive juice."_

"_Olive juice?"_

"_Olive juice you too," Stewie smiled, leaning against Brian._

* * *

All of this and more flashed in front of Brian's eyes, and he finished untangling Stewie in a daze. Stewie hopped out of the car and made for the door, but noticed he was alone and turned back to Brian. The dog was still sitting in the car, eyes glazed. "Hey, dog. You coming or what?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh ... yeah. Yeah, I'm coming," said Brian distractedly, and began to follow Stewie, who swung the bar doors open and disappeared inside. Brian remained, however, staring after his friend. He had a very nasty suspicion forming in his mind. Was Stewie gay?

"No," Brian said, trying to convince himself. "That's ridiculous. Remember that time you asked him?"

* * *

"Hey, Stewie, can I ask you something?" said Brian, approaching the baby's high-chair.

"Make it quick, Brian, I have an order of pancakes about to be served," said Stewie, clapping his hands in an uncharacteristic display of eager anticipation.

"Are you gay?" said Brian simply.

Stewie scoffed. "Of course not, Brian. And if my pancakes weren't on the way, I would beat you for asking such a preposterous question. HEY!" he called after Lois. "HEY! Hurry up, bitch! Good God, whose leg do you have to hump to get a good dose of syrup around here?"

"Hey, that's _my_ line," Brian said, affronted. "You stole it."

"Perhaps," Stewie mused, twiddling his fingers. "Or ..." he looked at Brian darkly, "...did _you_ steal it from _me_?"

* * *

"There's only one solution, then," Brian said, clenching a fist and bringing it down on his other hand. "I'll have to get him so drunk that he _admits_ that he's gay."

"Who, Clay Aiken?" asked Cleveland, who was passing.

"Oh. No, uh ... Tom Cruise." And Brian fled to the safety of the bar.


	3. Revelations

A/N: The song used is "You Know I Will" by Lucas Grabeel, off of the "Fox and the Hound 2" soundtrack. Onward!

* * *

"Hey, is he eighteen?" Horace asked, as always, upon serving Brian and Stewie their drinks.

"Horace, the drinking age is 21," Brian replied, as per usual, and took a sip of his martini.

"Oh," said Horace, leaving.

Stewie looked suspiciously at Brian. "Dog, why has this been presented to me? You know very well that I _do not drink_. And may I remind you that _you_, yourself, said you only needed 'a quick drink'."

"Ah, I figured you deserved a treat," said Brian, trying to appear casual, though beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "Come on, just one won't hurt."

"No. I refuse," said Stewie childishly, and he crossed his arms and pouted, refusing to look at the drink.

"C'mon," said Brian, elbowing him gently. "You know you want to…"

Stewie sighed. "Oh, fine, if it will make you shut up," he said, picking up his glass. He shot a dark look at Brian. "But _only_ one." And he raised his glass, proposing a toast. "To Seth MacFarlane. I have absolutely no idea who he is, but people keep mentioning him when they talk to me … so he must be _very_ classy." With that, Stewie raised the glass to his lips and drank.

Brian went to do the same, but then realized he wouldn't be able to interrogate Stewie if he himself was drunk. He made to fake drinking it – perhaps even toss it over his shoulder – but Stewie lowered his glass and glared at him. "Well, Brian? If I have to, you have to. Now drink."

Brian sighed in resignation and swallowed his drink with a gulp.

* * *

_Four hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-two martinis later_

* * *

"_I'll stand between you and your darkest fears … you know I will_," Stewie sang, wobbling unsteadily on the table and almost knocking over his seventh glass.

Brian wiped his eyes. He loved this song. "_I'll be the shoulder for your fallen tears … you know I will_," he chorused, joining in.

"_I'll be behind you till you're in the clear … you know I will! Yeah, yeah!_" Stewie finished, to raucous applause from the rest of the bar, who had all gathered around the table to watch the two of them perform their duet. Brian gave one last "_Woo!_" and the two of them bowed; however, drunk as they were, they promptly wobbled unsteadily and crashed to the floor in a heap. Somehow, during the fall, Stewie ended up on top of Brian.

As the rest of the bar went back to their normal activities, Stewie raised his head and looked down at the dog below him. "My _God_, you're hot, aren't you?" he said woozily, apparently not recognizing his friend.

"I … uh … I dunno," said Brian, patting his friend awkwardly on the back. "I guess I am." How was it that whenever he and Stewie got drunk, they wound up singing together, only for it to end really badly? "Am I?"

"Well of _course_ you are," said Stewie, snuggling into Brian's fur happily. "And you are also wuzzy and farm. Uh, I mean, fazzy and wurm. Or, uh –"

"Fuzzy and warm. Got it," Brian said, content with ruffling Stewie's hair. Though he didn't seem to recognize Brian, Brian recognized him, probably because he had more experience in drinking than Stewie did.

"Hey…" Stewie raised his head and looked up at Brian again, cross-eyed. "I don't … I don't know you, but could I … could I tell you …" he giggled uncharacteristically, "a _secret?_"

"Uh …" Even though he was drunk, Brian was still nervous. "Sure."

"Ah, good!" said Stewie happily, almost falling off of Brian. "Well. There's this … there's this _guy_ I know, his name is _Brian_. And do you know what?"

"W…what?" asked Brian unsteadily, fearing the worst.

Stewie giggled and leaned close to Brian's ear. "He is _seriously_ …" he hiccupped, "…he is _seriously_ sexy."

Brian closed his eyes and grimaced. Yup, this was what he had been expecting, all right. "So … so does that mean you have a crush on him?" the dog asked, dreading the answer.

"Well of _course_ I do!" said Stewie, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look at him, he's _gorgeous_! I've _totally_ been lusting after him. Hopefully it's not too obvious, though…"

"Not … not obvious at all," said Brian, his drunken mind telling him to sound reassuring. "Go on…"

"The thing is," continued Stewie, tracing patterns on the palm of his hand, "I _don't_ think he likes me back. And do you know why?" He giggled and leaned in again, whispering, "'Cause _he loves Lois!_"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Shut up…"

"No, no no no no no, let me finish," said Stewie pompously, standing up on Brian's stomach; he was so light that this didn't affect Brian, even in his drunken state. "What I was _going_ to say was, I'm going to _change_ him. I'm going to _make_ him see that I … that I am _sooooo_ much better than Lois."

"That's your plan, huh?" said Brian, a nasty feeling growing in his stomach (a feeling having almost nothing to do with the fact that Stewie was standing on it). "Sounds … it sounds good."

"Of course it is! _All_ of my plans are good. It's only a matter of time before he … before he …" Stewie wobbled unsteadily, then fell back over onto Brian, and began snoring gently.

Brian grimaced. "Come on, let's get you home…" he whispered, and stood up, carefully holding Stewie in both arms. The dog stumbled a bit, spun around, fell on his rear a couple of times, and finally realized that neither he nor Stewie were in any fit condition to drive. So he headed outside and, with a grunt, hoisted Stewie into the car and leaned the seat back, doing the same for himself. The two of them were camping out tonight.

"Mm, Brian, that feels nice…" came a murmur from the dozing Stewie, and he rolled over in his sleep, snuggling against Brian again. Brian tried to push him away but failed, and eventually decided that it was best to just let him be. Slowly he wrapped Stewie in a hug, and began to drift off to sleep, breathing deeply.

Brian sighed. Tomorrow morning would be a nightmare.


	4. A Few Distractions

The next morning, Peter sat reclining on the couch, oblivious to his surroundings until Lois came to him, radiating concern. "Peter, have you —"

"Whoa whoa, hang on a second, Lois, I'm watchin' a movie," said Peter, holding up a hand.

"And now back to _Jackass 3: Dare to be Stupid_," came the announcer's voice from the TV. A skinny guy walked onscreen holding a large rod. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "My name's Sam Etaburt, and I'm going to use a branding iron on my ass." He dropped his pants and turned around, handing the iron to his friend. "Ok, Johnny, do it!"

Johnny grinned evilly and readied the iron. A loud SQUELCH came from the TV, followed by Sam's screaming in horror and pain. "_You sonofabitch! You shoved it UP my — my — _Oh _GOD_, it's ROASTING MY INSIDES!"

Lois picked up the remote and switched the TV off angrily. Peter turned to her, confused. "Hey, Lois, what — what the hey? I mean, why did you —"

"Peter, this is _serious_," said Lois, frustrated. "Brian and Stewie went out to the park _yesterday afternoon_ and they still haven't come back! I even called Brian's cell, and he's not answering!"

* * *

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Brian, still drunk, groaned and raised his head from his sleep. Noise. Noise not good. Noise very bad. Noise disturb him from recovering from hangover…

Brian raised a fist and smashed it in the general direction of the rings a few times until the noise stopped with a crunching sound. Brian punched at it a few more times, just in case, then went back to sleep with a smile.

Much better.

* * *

"What are we going to _do_, Peter?" Lois asked him anxiously, coming to sit beside him on the couch. "They could be anywhere! They could be lost, or dying, or being forced to watch _Scrubs_, or —" 

"Whoa whoa whoa, Lois, hold on there," said Peter, raising his arms. "Now," he said frankly, "I don't know where Brian and Stewie are, but they'll be fine. C'mon, they're smart, they know how to stay out of trouble. Like that time they avoided the Ark of the Covenant."

* * *

Brian and Stewie, tied to a pole, squeezed their eyes shut as a mysterious force drifted out of the Ark, floating above the squadron of Nazi soldiers and their leaders. The strange spirit, at first glance an angel, soon turned into an evil skeleton, and supernatural light began to shoot and swirl out of the Ark, destroying all those in the clearing who were daring to look at the priceless artifact. Screams came from the Nazi soldiers as, one by one, they fell victim to the Ark. 

"Brian…?" Stewie cried out over the howl of noise and wind.

"Don't look, Stewie! Keep your eyes _shut!_" Brian shouted back.

* * *

"I know they're smart, but what if something's happened to them?" continued Lois, still concerned. "It's not like them to just disappear like this!" 

"Hey!" Chris giggled from the stairs, where he'd been eavesdropping. "Maybe they _eloped!_"

"Yeah," said Meg from beside him, joining in the joke. "Maybe they ran off to Las Vegas and got married by one of those _Elvis impersonators!_"

Chris and Meg fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, and Chris promptly tumbled down the rest of the stairs and smashed into the wall. "Ow…"

"That's _not_ what happened, kids, and shame on you for suggesting such a thing," said Lois sternly, standing up. "Now, if Brian doesn't come back with Stewie in a half an hour, I'm calling someone."

"Fine. Just don't call the same people I did that time I saw a cat stuck in a tree," Peter said, crossing his arms.

* * *

"_In 2005, a group of local misfits won a costume contest at an '80s TV convention. These men promptly returned home and drank some beer. Today they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...THE A-TEAM."_

"Fluffy!" a little girl called desperately, "Fluffy, come down!"

Fluffy remained in the tree, however, and the little girl looked helplessly at her parents. "Oh, Mommy, Daddy, what're we gonna _do_?"

A big black van wih an orange stripe on the side promptly careened down the street and spun into the lawn, its tires carving dirt marks in the grass (and also running over the mailbox). The doors to the van sprang open, and out came John "Hannibal" Smith, Face, "Howlin' Mad" Murdoch, and B.A. Baracus (who looked suspiciously like Mr. T).

"Don't you worry, sad little girl, the A-Team will get your beloved kitty down," said Peter — erm, _John_. "Ready, boys?" He and the others drew their guns and began firing at the tree, chipping away at the bark as a beaver would, until at last the tree fell over (into the neighbors' house), and Fluffy scampered away.

"No need to thank us; it's what we do," said Joe — uh, _Murdoch_.

The neighbors raised their heads from the "duck and cover" position they had assumed, and glared at the quartet. "Who the hell are you guys?"

The foursome stopped in their trek back to their van and turned around. John took the cigar out of his mouth and growled, "We're the A-Team."

And they struck a celebratory pose.

And stayed there.

"Get off my property!" yelled the neighbor.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea, let's go." And the Team piled into the van and drove off.

* * *

"Peter, that was you and your friends pretending to be action heroes," said Lois, crossing her arms. 

"Perhaps," said Peter, stroking his chin and thinking. Shadows crossed his face. "Or _was_ it?"

His question was met with silence.

"Yeah, it was," concluded Peter.

* * *

Stewart Gilligan Griffin was dreaming… 

"_What the devil?" Stewie said, frowning as he looked around. "Why am I in a cornfield?" He looked down. "And why am I wearing a dress? … I mean, it does have a nice color, I suppose … and oh my God, but I look dashing in it…" Stewie noticed music in the background. "And why do I hear 'Chariots of Fire'?"_

"_Stewie …" came a voice that was deep, alluring, and somehow incredibly familiar._

"_What?" Stewie gasped. "I say, where is that coming from? I must follow it!"_

"_Stewie …" came the voice again, and Stewie began to run, the golden corn stalks rustling as he pushed them aside. The voice seemed to be just out of his reach — it was so _tempting_, yet he wasn't able to catch it — and he was soon panting with exhaustion, though his desire kept him going. He pushed stalk after stalk aside as the owner of the voice bounded through the field, laughing lightly, with Stewie doing all he could to keep up._

_Finally he pushed aside a cluster of stalks and saw a large pillar standing in the middle of the field. And sitting on top of the pillar was — _

"_Brian!" said Stewie happily. The dog was dressed in the tuxedo he had worn to the Emmys, and he was holding a dandelion. He smiled and blew, and the little seeds of the dandelion were scattered into the wind. They drifted past Stewie, tickling his nose, and he and Brian laughed._

_The dog stood up on the pillar and jumped … and he slowly floated downward, toward Stewie, who spread his arms and let Brian fall into him. The two of them laughed again, rolling over and over in the field, scattering the golden stalks everywhere. They wrestled playfully, just enjoying being in each other's company …and slowly Brian stopped, and hugged Stewie close. Stewie beamed, returning the hug passionately. _

_Brian sighed and smiled at Stewie, still very close. And gradually, slowly, Brian began to lean in … Stewie closed his eyes and prepared himself … he couldn't believe it … this was happening, really happening…_

"_Stewie, wake up," said Brian frankly, and the 'Chariots of Fire' music in the background was cut off with an abrupt record scratch._

"_What the deuce?" exclaimed Stewie angrily, glaring at Brian. "Brian, that's not how things are supposed to end! Now kiss me, damn you!"_

"_Stewie, wake up," said Brian again, and began shaking him gently. "C'mon, wake up…"_

* * *

"…Wake up, Stewie," Brian said again, continuing to shake him. "It's morning, and we have to go. Come on…" 

Brian sighed. Stewie must have been having one helluva good dream, because he absolutely refused to be coerced out of slumber. "No," the baby murmured in his sleep, "no no no! I refuse to let things end like _this_, they should be better! No, damn you!"

Brian groaned. "Oh, God. You made me do this, Stewart Griffin."

He leaned down and licked Stewie's ear.

"Mmm, _there_ we go," murmured Stewie. "Yeah, _that's_ the stuff. _That's_ how it's supposed to — WHAT THE HELL!"

Stewie's eyes shot open and he leapt backward, clinging onto the back of the passenger seat. "What the _deuce_ do you think you're doing?!"

"You wouldn't wake up," Brian explained, pulling the driver's side seatbelt onto his lap. "So I figured I'd speed things up a bit."

"By _licking_ my _ear_?" Stewie exclaimed as he pulled himself into his baby seat, strapping the belts around his waist. "You should be shot for doing such a thing," he grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting childishly.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't like it," Brian muttered as he turned the key to start the car.

"What was that?" Stewie asked.

"Nothing..."

* * *

"All right, Chris," Peter began, looking through his binoculars. The two of them were lying on their stomachs on the roof of the house, scanning the streets of Quahog. "If we're going to find Brian and Stewie, we have to be _quick_ about it. For some reason your mother wants to get the law involved." 

"Um…" Chris stammered. "I don't see why _we_ have to look for them. What's so bad about the police?"

"Trust me, Chris," said Peter seriously, lowering his binoculars, "I know about these things."

* * *

"Oh, hey, look," said Peter happily, glancing down. "I've got some mustard on my shirt." 

He looked around furtively. He seemed to be alone in the park … he grabbed his shirt in his hand, took once last glance around … and slowly began to lick the mustard off.

Immediately a policeman popped out from behind a tree and cuffed Peter. "Hey, what the hell?" Peter shouted in fear.

"You are _under arrest_ for _disturbin' the peace!_" said the policeman, obviously trying to sound like a cop from an action movie.

"But I didn't do anything —" Peter started to say.

"Ah, ah, ah," the cop cut him off, waggling a finger. "Save it for the judge, pal. Save it for the judge."

* * *

"I'm still traumatized from the events of that day," Peter said sadly. "Ya know why?" 

He turned and whispered in Chris's ear. "'Cause that cop was totally into me."

"EEEWWW!" Chris shrieked, recoiling in horror, and he immediately lost his balance. With a flailing of his arms, he began to fall off the roof. "Whooooa! Dad, help!"

Peter lunged forward and caught Chris just as he fell, so that his son was dangling off of the roof, suspended in Peter's hand. "I got you, Chris, I got you!" said Peter in a panic, and he began to pull; the effect of this was that Chris swung to the side and flew out of Peter's grasp, into a rosebush on the ground.

Chris popped up happily. "Hey, Dad, I'm okay! Except —" with a thrill of horror Chris looked at his arms and legs, which were all bloodied and scratched from the rose thorns. "AAAAHH!! The flowers! They're biting me! THEY'RE BITING ME!!! AAAAHHH!!" And he ran off screaming.

Meanwhile, Peter flailed on the roof, desperately trying to regain his own balance after letting go of Chris. "Hey, hey hey hey hey, whoooooa!" Peter shouted, and began falling himself, headfirst toward the ground. "Oh no!"

In mid—flight, something grabbed Peter's attention. "Oh, hey, look, there's an M&M in the rain gutter!" he said happily, and in trying to get a closer look as he fell, he flipped himself over and landed on his feet, completely unharmed.

There was silence for a beat, and Peter blinked. "Darn," he said finally, glaring up at the gutter. "I'll _never_ get that M&M."

Suddenly the full realization of what he'd done struck Peter. "Oh my God, I just did a flip! In mid-air! With nothing else to save me!" He did a dance of joy, prancing around happily. "Ya know what this means?" he asked nobody in particular. "Huh? Ya know what that means?"

Peter stopped dancing for a moment and struck a triumphant pose. "It means … I could be a _ninja!_"

And he continued his jubilant dance of joy.

* * *

"Honey, I'm home —" Brian swung open the front door and began to enter the house, before realizing what he had just said. "Let me try that again." He backed out and shut the door. 

"Lois, we're home," said Brian, as he swung open the door and entered the house (again). In front of them, Lois dropped the telephone receiver she was holding and pressed her hands to her face. "Oh, Brian, Stewie!" she exclaimed, dropping to the ground to pull both of them into a hug. "I was _just_ about to call the cops. You have no idea how happy I am to see you both!" She seemed on the verge of tears.

"We're all right, Lois," said Brian, his tail wagging happily. "Just got a little delayed."

"Oh, thank God," sighed Lois, and she kissed Stewie's forehead. "How's my baby boy, huh?" she cooed. "Did you miss Mommy? 'Cause Mommy missed you! Oh yes, she was _so_ worried…" Next to Stewie, Brian struggled to hold back laughter.

"_No_, Lois, I did _not_ miss you," said Stewie (if only to save face). He clenched his fists. "In fact, the only reason I _might_ have is because you weren't around for me to _demolish!! Victory will be mine one day!!_"

"Aw, sweetie, I'm glad. I missed you too," Lois said happily, smothering poor Stewie with more kisses.

"You don't listen to a word I say, do you?" Stewie grumbled, crossing his arms.


	5. Trouble Brewing

"Heeeeey cousin!" came a familiar voice from the telephone pressed against Brian's ear.

"Hi, Jasper," Brian smiled. "How are things with you and Ricardo?"

"Oh, they are simply _fabulous_, thank you for asking," gushed Jasper, and Brian could just see him batting his hand and toying with the ring in his ear. "We've settled back down into our apartment and, guess what? I have big news!"

"Oh?" Brian asked, intrigued.

"Well," Jasper said eagerly, lowering his voice, "we ... are expecting _puppies!_"

Stunned silence greeted Jasper's announcement, as Brian's eyes widened. "...W-what?" he finally said, dumbstruck. "How ... how is that even _possible?_"

Jasper laughed. "Oh, it was simple. We just found a certain woman willing to carry our babies, and we both ... ah ... _fertilized_ her through a sperm bank. Our long-term plan is to have two kids, one from each of us, and I beat out Ricardo the first time 'round!"

"Wow," Brian said, still stunned. "Wow, that's ... that's great!" he said sincerely, "I'm happy for you guys!" A thought struck him. "But ... but what woman would be willing to _do_ that for you?"

"Oh, we called in a few favors, paid off a few debts," said Jasper idly, and Brian could tell he was twirling the phone cord in his fingers. "She's actually really nice, and it's probably best that she not raise her own kids anyway..."

"Why, who is she?"

* * *

Backstage at the MTV awards, a certain manager paced back and forth uncertainly as his client performed onstage. "Look at her, she's awful!" he said angrily to the stage crew, gesturing toward the brightly lit stage. "Her performance is going to be ridiculed by every major television company in America!"

At last the final song finished, and the manager's client came backstage. "Well, how was that?" she asked, dripping sweat and breathing hard, but nonetheless pleased.

"Britney, that VMA performance was _crap_," said the manager, crossing his arms. "Pure, unadulterated _crap_." While talking to her he glanced downward, taking in Spears' figure. "Hey ... have you gained weight again?"

* * *

"Listen, Jasper, there's something I need to ask you," Brian said seriously, sitting down at the kitchen table and making sure he was alone. "It's ... well, it's not easy for me to say, and with you being ... well, how you are, I thought you could help."

Jasper let out an excited squeal over the phone. "Oh my God, are you finally coming out?" he asked eagerly. "It's about time, Bee-ri! I'm soooo excited!"

"What? No!" Brian said quickly, "No, Jasper, we've been through this before. I'm not gay, remember?"

"Oh," said Jasper, sounding disappointed. "Well, what is it then?"

"Well," Brian started awkwardly, shifting in his seat, "it's ... ah ... not me, but it's ... someone I know. And — well, he's ... he's into me."

"Yeah, I see the problem," Jasper said thoughtfully. "There's no way you could just give him a chance, though?" he added, half-hoping.

"I wish I could, Jasper," sighed Brian, "but it's just not a logical possibility, and he's ... well, determined that it should be." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously; stroking the fur there soothed his nerves.

"Well, you just have to approach it as you would any other break-up," reasoned Jasper. "Just tell him you like him, as a friend, but that you can't be anything more. But you should still offer to be there for him; he must be going through a rough time."

"Tell me about it," muttered Brian. "Anything else?"

"Uh-huh," said Jasper, "one more thing. It's important to make sure that this doesn't get in the way of your friendship. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

"No, no, of course not," said Brian. "But I don't know how to _do_ that. How can I 'break up' with him and expect him not to hate me? How can I try to stay friends?"

"Just do the same as you would with any female friends of yours," said Jasper, twirling the phone cord again. "There's not something special or different that you have to do just because it's a gay romance, Bri. They're pretty much the same as het relationships."

"Though with some key differences," added Brian, half-smiling. "Thanks, Jasper, I'll do that."

"Nooo problem," his cousin smiled. "Do I get to find out who this mysterious boy is? Maybe I could hook him up with someone!"

Brian rubbed the back of his neck again. "Uh ... maybe you already have an idea?"

"Hmmm ..." Jasper thought. "Is it your young friend, the homicidal one? Stewie, right?"

"What?" Brian gasped. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," scoffed Jasper, "I could totally tell. He was _soooo_ checking me and Ricardo out. But you are who you are, I suppose. And he wasn't looking at us half as much as he was at you."

Brian blinked. "Uh huh," he said slowly. "...Well ... be sure to tell me when the pups are on their way, all right?"

"Oh, Brian, you know I wouldn't let you miss it for the _world_," enthused Jasper. "But for now I have to go. Ricardo's feeling a tad _needy_ today, which is sensational, and..." the dog trailed off, and Brian heard the sounds of someone entering the room over the phone. "Jasper? You there?"

"My stars, I didn't know you could do _that_ with whipped cream..." Jasper murmured in shock and awe.

Brian's eyes widened. "Okay, too much information. Gotta go, Jasp'. Talk to you later."

"I hope everything works out, Brian!" said Jasper sincerely. "Oh, wait, Ricardo, _stop!_ Aaah, that tickles!" he giggled.

"Have fun," laughed Brian, and hung up quickly, before he could hear any more. "Well ... that was disturbing. Though it's not the most disturbing thing I've come across..."

* * *

"...Oh, boy, a day at the beach!" said Peter happily, as he stopped the car and climbed out, hoisting a surfboard out of the back. "Just man and man's best friend, havin' a good ol' time together!"

"Yup," said Brian as he pulled on a pair of swim trunks, tossing his collar aside. "Perfect time to try out my new surfboard," he added, unloading his own out of the car (it was actually a boogieboard, but Peter wasn't to know that, as it was the perfect size for Brian).

"And also a perfect time to try out my new _Speedo!_" cried Peter happily, ripping off his t-shirt and shorts in front of a stunned Brian.

"Well, what do ya think?" Peter asked, striking a modeling pose.

Brian's eye twitched.

And people in Canada heard his scream.

* * *

Lois was unloading groceries from the car when she was suddenly hit in the back. Hard. She yelled in pain and whirled around, only to find nobody there. She glanced around suspiciously, then shrugged and decided that it would be best to just ignore it. She then hoisted several more grocery bags into her arms and headed for the front door.

Suddenly a hole was punched into one of her bags and the contents spilled out, splattering everywhere. "What the — _PETER!_" Lois shrieked, seeing his face peeping through the hole in the bag. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"You can't seeeee me," Peter teased, crossing his arms and staring up at her cheerfully. He was lying down in front of Lois and dressed in a black ninja suit that hid everything except his eyes (and his belly, which was too massive to fit inside all the way). "I'm a niiiiiinja!"

"Peter, I can totally see you," Lois grumbled, picking up the groceries. She groaned. "Oh, God, of all the bags to punch holes in, you had to get the one with the eggs," she muttered. "Peter, what on Earth is going on?"

"I am a ninja!" shouted Peter triumphantly, jumping to his feet. "Ninjas wreak unholy wrath on those who deserve it!" He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned in close to Lois. "They sneak around in the dead of night, clinging to the shadows. Then they see their target and ... BAM!" He promptly lashed out and punched Lois. She yelled and flew backward, her back hitting the trunk of a tree. The bags flew out of her hands and the contents again spilled everywhere.

Lois raised a hand to her face and inspected it. Everything was fine, except for her nose, which was only bleeding. Nevertheless, she was _furious_. "PETER!" she shouted, standing up. "I've just about had it with you and your stupid antics! Now take off that costume and _stop pretending to be a_ —"

Lois stopped. The entire front yard was deserted. She looked around, confused.

"You can't seeeeeeeeee me," came Peter's taunting voice, seemingly from nowhere, and he giggled happily.

* * *

Brian was nervous.

"Just tell him you like him as a friend, just tell him you like him as a friend, just tell him you like him as a friend," he kept repeating to himself as he climbed the stairs to Stewie's room. "Oh, God, I hope he takes it well ... I remember the last time I made Stewie really angry..."

* * *

"Where's my money, man?" Stewie shouted again, as he repeatedly punched Brian in the face, and Brian yelled in pain. "You gonna give me my money?"

* * *

Slowly, tentatively, Brian raised a hand and turned the doorknob. The door creaked open ominously, and Brian peered into Stewie's room. "Stewie?" he called.

He was met with silence.

"Stewie?" Brian said again, advancing in cautiously. He couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom ... maybe it had to do with the fact that the "Psycho" theme music was playing in the background. Brian looked down: there was a tape player on the floor. He sighed and turned it off, and the "Psycho" music stopped.

"Stewie, can I talk to you?" called Brian, looking around the apparently deserted room. "Are you in here somewhere?"

He approached Stewie's crib and peered inside, but it was, like the rest of the room, vacant. Brian sighed. "Guess he's not here —" he started, then yelled in pain as something hit him on the top of the head. "What the _hell_?" Brian shouted, rolling away on the floor, clutching his hands on his head. "What's —" He made to stand up and run for the door, but as soon as he had struggled to his feet he was hit in the head again, and this time everything went black.

His last thought, before he lost consciousness completely, was that someone had turned the "Psycho" theme music back on.


	6. Strange Occurrences

"Hey, Meg, whatcha watchin'?" asked Chris, sitting down next to his sister on the couch.

"_South Park_," replied Meg in a bored tone, turning the volume up.

Chris looked shocked. "What? You're watching _South Park?_" he cried, gesturing angrily toward the TV. "It's not even a funny show! It's just a bunch of writers deliberately trying to be offensive. That's how they get attention. Now, _Robot Chicken_ ... that's a show worth watching."

"Whatever," said Meg with a shrug, not taking her eyes off of the cartoon. "OH MY GOD, THEY KILLED KENNY!" came a shriek from the TV.

A pause. Then —

"OH MY GOD! NECROPHILIA! NECROPHILIAAAAAAA!!" shrieked the voice. Meg's eyes widened and she dove for the remote, changing channels hastily. "Okay, maybe we'll watch something else."

At that precise moment, a CD came sailing through the air like a Frisbee, hitting against the TV. The screen held, however, so that the CD bounced off the TV and soared toward Meg lethally. She screamed and ducked, and the CD flew behind her into the kitchen, where Lois was making cookies. She removed the tray from the oven just in time for the CD to dart inside, and Lois, who hadn't noticed, shut the door on the CD, which was now smoking from the heat of the oven.

Meg came dashing into the kitchen. "Oh my God, that's my Avril Lavigne CD!" she shouted, and she dove for the oven door without thinking, pulling the CD out. She grasped it in her bare hands for a moment before her skin turned red, and she dropped the Lavigne CD with another shriek; the CD fell to the floor and shattered, while Meg ran for the kitchen sink to douse her hands in cold water.

"Heh," Chris said from the doorway, looking at the shattered CD, which was still smoking. "Yup, Avril Lavigne's _Hot_, all right." His laugh was interrupted by a block of wood falling from the ceiling and hitting him in the head. "OW!! What the heck?!"

Chris looked up: Peter was above him, still dressed in his ninja suit, crawling across the ceiling. "Dad! What are you doing up there?"

Peter pressed a finger to his lips. "Sssh, Chris. I'm a niiiiiinja! And ninjas must dole out justice where justice needs to be doled out!"

"You were trying to break the TV," Chris said, gesturing toward the set, which was still on, and bearing only a mild scratch mark from the CD.

"I was trying to break _South Park!_" Peter whispered, inching along the ceiling toward the television, apparently planning to squash it now. "South Park is the spawn of the devil and it _must be destroyed_."

"Well, I'll agree with you on that," said Chris, following his dad. "But why did you hit me in the head with a piece of wood?"

Peter stopped moving long enough to giggle. "Heheheheheh. Wood." Raising his voice, he said, "Sometimes casualties are necessary in the fight for justice, Chris. I must do all I can to retaliate against the evils of the world!"

"I think I can give you a better answer, Chris," said Lois angrily, following Meg back into the living room. "The ceiling broke under your father's weight. Now, Peter, _get down from there immediately!_"

"No!" said Peter childishly, "I must enact my evil ninja plan of awesomeness!" But before he could do so, the rope he had clipped to the ceiling (which he was using to crawl along) slackened dangerously; Peter had moved too far from the clip and now he began to fall, not onto the TV as was his plan, but onto the couch. The clip in the ceiling popped, and an entire plank of wood came down with Peter; splinters of wood and plaster rained down upon Lois, Meg and Chris. Peter himself fell onto the couch, tipping it, and the plank of wood hit him in the knee and also slammed into the wall, where it shattered the glass of Meg's portrait. The TV was unaffected, however, and it continued to play _South Park_.

Peter sat up and held his knee. "Aaaah," he groaned, then he inhaled with a hiss, and did it again. "Aaaah." And again. "Aaaah." And again. "Aaaah."

"Peter, look at the mess you made!" Lois exclaimed incredulously, gesturing at the ruined living room. "You really have to stop doing this sort of thing!"

"I WANNA BE A NINJA TOO!" shrieked Chris, and he reared back and punched Meg in the face. Meg yelled in pain and clutched her nose, and Chris scowled at her. "Meg, you got in my way!"

Lois clutched her hair in her hands, exasperated. "Oh my God, Peter, this is even worse than the time you got Lindsay Lohan arrested!"

* * *

"Come on, Lindsay, one more drink," said Peter cheerfully at the Hollywood bar, handing a wine glass to the movie star. "On me. It won't hurt." He looked at his watch as Lindsay downed the alcohol. "Hey, d'you think you could give me a ride home?"

Inside Lohan's Mercedes, Peter sat in the passenger seat contentedly while Lindsay struggled to keep her eyes on the road. All was silent for several minutes, then Peter giggled abruptly. "Hey," he said to Lindsay, holding out a suspicious-looking bag, "want some coke?"

Lindsay smiled and took the bag, but Peter suddenly looked out at the road. "Oh my God, watch out for that tree!" he shouted.

* * *

Dizzy, pained, and feeling an inexplicable sense of deja vu, Brian raised his head and opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, but gradually came into focus. "What the?" he muttered. He was back in Lois and Peter's room, sleeping on the end of their bed as per usual. "What happened?"

Slowly Brian sat up and jumped off the bed, rubbing the back of his head. His arm also seemed to hurt too, for some strange reason. Brian opened the door and looked out: the hallway was deserted.

"Huh," Brian muttered, and walked down the staircase.

"Hey, Brian," said Stewie cheerfully, passing him on the way to the kitchen.

"Stewie? Wait, stop!" Brian shouted, chasing after him.

Completely nonplussed, Stewie turned around in the kitchen doorway, a hand on his hip (the other was dragging Rupert behind him). "Yeah?" he said, as if nothing was wrong.

Glowering, Brian stood directly in front of Stewie and placed his hands on the baby's shoulders. "Listen to me. I want you to tell me _exactly_ what you did to me, and I want you to tell me _now_."

"What are you talking about?" shrugged Stewie. "The only thing I've done the entire morning is pick up Rupert. The two of us are going for pancakes." He gestured toward the kitchen.

"Oh, ha ha ha, very funny," Brian said sarcastically. He backed Stewie up so that he was pressed against the wall. "Cut the crap and tell me, right now!" he growled.

"Brian, I honestly don't know what you mean," said Stewie innocently. "Someone tried to 'do' something to you, you say? Hmmm, perhaps it was Meg. I've always wondered if she ever really got over the crush she had on you. Although it's not as strange as some crushes she's had..."

* * *

"Meg, why are you watching _Sesame Street_?" asked Chris early one morning. Meg was staring, transfixed, at the TV, refusing to take her eyes off of it. She let out a squeal as a certain character came on-screen. "Oh my God, COOKIE MONSTER!" she shouted at the television, to Chris's utter shock. "I'm, like, your BIGGEST fan!"

* * *

"Stewie, I don't know _what_ you're planning, but I can tell you I intend to find out," said Brian lowly, releasing Stewie's shoulders. "Your playing dumb isn't fooling anyone."

"Do I look _dumb_ to you, Brian?" asked Stewie, insulted. "Never mind, don't answer that. All I will tell you is that I am a child _prodigy_. My name shall be remembered for centuries!"

"And you're modest, too. Don't forget that," grumbled Brian, crossing his arms.

"Yes, quite right," said Stewie, who hadn't noticed anything. "Now if you'll excuse me, the pancakes await." And he walked off into the kitchen.

Brian sighed. Behind him, Lois came through the front door (having just haggled with the ceiling repairman), noticed Brian's despondent figure, and walked over to him. "Everything okay, Brian?" she asked kindly, scratching his neck to cheer him up.

Brian stiffened. Normally the mere fact that Lois was _touching_ him made him want to declare his love to her all over again, but now ... something was different. The neck scratching felt nice, no doubt about that, but ... it wasn't as nice as it once had been. He didn't get as much of a thrill out of it. Why was that?

"Y-yeah," said Brian after a pause, looking up at Lois. "Just a little ... trouble with Stewie."

"Oh," said Lois sympathetically, and nodded. "Well, he has been kind of rambunctious lately. Like last week, on our trip to the zoo."

* * *

"Hey, Chris!" said Stewie evilly, waving a bag of popcorn around. "Do you want this popcorn?"

Chris turned around and saw the popcorn, and immediately began drooling. "Yes. YES!" he shouted, diving for the stroller that Stewie was sitting in.

"You want it, huh?" responded Stewie with a grin. "Well then, go get it!" he shouted, tossing it aside. The popcorn flew over a fence and into a pit. Chris, salivating, climbed the fence and dove into the pit after the popcorn, not noticing the large sign plastered next to the gate:

ALLIGATOR PIT

_Please do not feed the animals_

* * *

"I-It's nothing you should worry about, Lois," said Brian, trying to sound reassuring. "Really, I took care of it."

"All right," said Lois. "But I'll help you out if you ever need it." And she gave Brian a pat on the shoulder, then went into the kitchen to fix Stewie his pancakes.

Brian stared at the spot where she had left, now completely confused. A part of him had always lusted after Lois, even after he had accepted that she was Peter's wife, and not his. So why hadn't he been drawn to her, just now?

Why wasn't he in love with Lois anymore?


	7. More Madness

"Peter, what's with the ninja get up?" Joe asked. "You look ridiculous."

Quagmire and Cleveland nodded in agreement, each taking a slurp of beer. It was Guys' Night Out at the Drunken Clam, and Peter still hadn't changed out of his costume. He attempted to bring his own beer glass up for a drink, but it failed to connect to his lips due to the fabric stretched over his mouth. "Damn," Peter muttered.

"I agree, Peter, it isn't exactly the best look for you," said Cleveland, gesturing toward Peter's belly, which was still partly exposed by the costume. "Why didn't you just change into normal clothes for the Night Out?"

"Because even ninjas need a break now and then," Peter said simply, pulling his mask off. His hair was unkempt and messy, and his glasses were askew, but at least he was now able to drink his beer. "Aaah. Much better."

"So explain to me again why you want to be a ninja?" Cleveland asked, confused.

"Because the world needs more heroes!" said Peter thunderously, crashing his fist on the table (which cracked a little under the force). "We're running out fast. You heard what happened to Superman?"

* * *

"Superman, I find you guilty of using your x-ray vision under false pretenses and sentence you to ten years in state prison for sexual harassment," said the judge, banging his gavel.

"Oh, come on!" said Superman exasperatedly, as the cops began to take him away. "I swear, I thought someone had hidden a time bomb in Wonder Woman's bra! Get off me, you pansies!"

Using his super-strength to pry off the cuffs, Superman punched one cop in the face and elbowed the other one in the stomach; when their grip weakened he took off into the air, crashing through the ceiling into the sky above. He didn't get very far, however - another policeman used a sniper rifle to shoot a tranquilizer dart into Superman's posterior, and he fell, smashing another hole in the ceiling before he landed on the floor, sound asleep.

"Another ten years for resisting arrest," said the judge, banging his gavel again. "Next case!"

* * *

"Peter, you can't be a ninja!" said Quagmire angrily. "Ninjas are stealthy. They're _sneaky_. They sneak around at night doing terrible things to terrible people!" He paused, then snickered. "Giggity!"

"I can so be a ninja!" argued Peter. "Watch me!"

"Oh yeah?" said Joe, raising an eyebrow. "How ya gonna prove it?"

"By getting out of paying for this drink," said Peter, gesturing toward his glass. "Bye!"

And he immediately climbed through the window over their table, having some trouble squeezing through it due to his girth. Finally he succeeded and crashed onto the sidewalk outside. "Ow." And from there, he slithered home, keeping himself in the shadows.

Inside the bar, Horace came up to the table where Quagmire, Cleveland and Joe still sat, staring after Peter with stunned expressions. "Closin' time, guys," said Horace. "Ya gonna pay for those?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, Joe will get them," said Quagmire, dashing out the door.

"Yeah, Joe will pay," said Cleveland too, following.

"NO I WON'T!" shouted Joe, and he made to chase after them, but his wheelchair slowed him down. "DAMN YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" he shouted after his three friends, raising his fist. His words echoed through in the bar, and all of the customers turned to stare at him. Joe's eyes widened, and he brought down his fist self-consciously.

"All right, how much do I owe you?" Joe groaned, turning to face Horace.

"Well ..." said Horace, taking in Joe's wheelchair, "I guess I can give ya a discount for bein' handicapped."

"OH NO YOU WON'T!" shouted Joe, punching Horace in the stomach. "I'LL PAY THE SAME AS EVERYBODY ELSE, MAGGOT!"

Joe paused. "Wait..."

* * *

The next day, Brian sat with his legs crossed on the couch, reading the newspaper as he watched the morning news.

"Good morning, I'm Tom Tucker," said Quahog's anchorman.

"And I'm Diane Simmons," said Diane, stacking her papers as usual.

"So did you have a good time with that male prostitute last night, Diane?" Tucker said nonchalantly, glancing at his co-anchor.

"Did you have a good time with yours, Tom?" Diane shot back.

"Whoa, no need to go there. Coming up, a discussion on why exactly Oprah refuses to go away. But first, we have a new announcement from scientists in California."

"That's right, Tom," said Diane, and a picture of a needle appeared on the screen next to her. "Scientists have discovered and isolated the gene that indicates whether a person is homosexual or heterosexual. More specifically, an experiment was conducted that documented a physiological difference in the anatomical structure of a gay man's brain. This eventually led to the discovery of a gene that determines sexual orientation, proving once and for all that homosexuality is not a choice."

"However, we all know that that won't stop the Christians from violently opposing it," said Tom calmly, and behind him appeared a picture of an arm waving a burning cross at two men kissing. "Regardless, scientists warn against labeling this the 'gay gene', as it is something that people cannot, and should not, attempt to change, due to the fragile nature of human DNA. Other studies remain inconclusive at this time."

"We now go to Ollie Williams for the resultant scientific forecast," said Diane. "Ollie?"

"GAY PEOPLE AIN'T STRAIGHT!" said Ollie.

"Thanks, Ollie," said Tom. "We'll be right back with Sports, after this."

A commercial for Ax deodorant, which depicted an ax-wielding murderer from a horror movie slaughtering people while smelling good, appeared on the screen, and Brian set down his newspaper and turned the TV off with the remote. "Well, it's good to know that more people will be on Jasper and Ricardo's side, now," he said to himself. "The way society treats gay people ... acting as if they have a choice. Maybe this will bring a change."

"Oh, one should certainly hope so," said Stewie cheerfully, as he came down the stairs; apparently he had been listening. "Why, poor Rupert here has been blatantly _abused_ at the hands of some people. Homophobic bastards," he added angrily.

"Rupert's your teddy bear," said Brian exasperatedly. "How could he have been abused by anyone?"

"For your information, a gang of thugs abducted him just last week!" Stewie said angrily, glaring at Brian. "He would have _died_ had I not interfered!"

* * *

"Oh my God!" Stewie shouted in pure horror, as he watched a group of four kids stomp on Rupert in the sandbox. "Look at you, Rupert, I leave you alone for _one second_ and you're up to your neck in trouble!" he called to his bear. "Fight back, damn you! Teach those kids a lesson!"

Rupert didn't stir. The kids continued to stop on him, laughing cruelly.

Stewie sighed in exasperation. "I have do to everything around here..." he muttered, and he pulled out an uzi, pointing it at the four kids. "All right, just step away from the teddy bear and no one gets hurt," he called to the wide-eyed children. "Yes, Kyle, that means _you, _you bastard!"

* * *

"I don't think those kids were necessarily homophobic," shrugged Brian. "I think they were just looking for a cheap thrill. Or a quick laugh."

"Oh, shut up, Brian," said Stewie. "If anyone should know about homophobes, it's _you_."

"Me?" said Brian angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you know, Brian," said Stewie slyly, walking off. "I think you know."

And he left Brian to be alone with his — very confused — thoughts. Not helping things was his reflection that Tom Tucker had looked unusually attractive this morning.

* * *

"Okay, Chris, lesson one in being a ninja," said Peter, handing his son a pair of nunchucks. "_Stealth_. Now, watch this."

Grasping his own pair of nunchucks, Peter inched along the side of the house and somersaulted his way over to the fence. Chris, now dressed in a black outfit identical to his father's, followed cautiously.

Peter popped up and peered over the fence for a moment. Seeing no one, he ducked back down, then put a finger to his lips. "Follow." And he hopped the fence, making a loud crashing noise when he fell to the ground. Fortunately, Quagmire — whose house they were trying to sneak into — didn't notice.

Chris hopped the fence as well, landing on his father's stomach. "Wow, Dad, you make a great cushion!" he said happily, climbing off.

"I know," said Peter proudly, standing up and brushing himself off. "I've known ever since that time I got a job as Simon Cowell's bean-bag chair."

* * *

Peter laid on his stomach, sprawled on Cowell's living-room floor in front of the big-screen TV. Cowell opened the door and walked in, taking a seat on Peter's back, and turned on FOX.

"Hey, watcha watchin'?" said Peter with interest.

"American Idol," replied Simon nonchalantly.

"But you're on American Idol," said Peter, confused.

"I know. I like to watch myself make comments and admire my inexplicably sexy voice," Simon explained.

"Isn't there something fundamentally wrong with that?" said Peter, eyes wide.

Simon crossed his arms and frowned. "All right, that proves it. You are a terrible bean-bag chair. If cushions of you were made, people would run away screaming in fear whenever they sat on them. You have no talent whatsoever. You disgust me."

"Sheesh, they don't exaggerate these things," Peter muttered crossly.

* * *

Peter spun his nunchucks and took aim, flinging them at the second story of Quagmire's house. The nunchucks broke a window and lodged onto its edge, making a perfect grappling hook. Peter tugged on it for a few moments, testing it, then turned to Chris and gestured upward. "All right. Now a _true_ ninja should be able to rappel up this line, steal some incriminating evidence, and rappel back down, with absolutely no problem. Oh, and you have to be totally silent as well."

"But Dad, what are we looking to incriminate Quagmire for?" Chris asked, confused.

"Something, anything. He's got evidence. Now go!" Peter said, gesturing toward the line.

Chris awkwardly grabbed the end of the nunchucks and began to shimmy up the line, getting closer and closer to Quagmire's bedroom window. "That's it, Chris, you've got it, keep going!" Peter whispered up to his son. Finally Chris reached the window, and peered inside.

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!"

Chris immediately shot back down the line, landing on the ground hard, and bolted for the fence again. "Chris, what is it?" Peter called, completely confused.

Chris spun around, panting. "Quagmire ... tomato soup ... horse's tail ... girl-on-girl ... electric razor ... kinky ... maple syrup ... RUN!!" he shouted incoherently, and whirled around again, leaping over the fence.

"_What?_" called Peter in utter bafflement.

"_RUN!!_" Chris bellowed back.


	8. Surprise Visit

Following several days of lusting after the likes of Zac Efron, Johnny Depp, and even Jackie Chan, Brian finally rounded on Stewie, cornering him in the living room in front of the TV, which was once again blaring the Disney Channel's _High School Musical 2_.

"_What the __**hell**__ did you do?_" Brian shouted, pinning Stewie, who looked utterly shocked, against the wall by his shoulders. "You did something to me while I was passed out, I know you did! Ever since I was hit on the head I've been making passes at guys and _I don't like it!_ Now tell me _what the hell you did!_"

"My word," exclaimed Stewie, almost conversationally, though his eyes were still wide. "This is almost as bad as the time I saw too much of Vanessa Hudgens," he added, gesturing toward the TV.

* * *

"Heeeey, Vanessa, I have the e-mail address of this guy you have just _got_ to meet," gushed Stewie, walking into the star's dressing room. "He's _really_ nice and — OH MY GOD!"

Blushing fiercely, Vanessa covered herself with a towel and shut off the camera, which had been set to an auto-timer. Stewie, rubbing his eyes and moaning, finally deemed it safe to look at her again and caught a glimpse of a slip of paper taped to the camera.

"Well," he said curtly. "I see you already _have_ his e-mail address."

* * *

"Don't stall, Stewie. _Tell me now!_" Brian yelled.

Stewie rolled his eyes. "First let go of me." When Brian did so, Stewie brushed himself off, looked up at him and smirked. "I don't know _what_ the big deal is, it was only a _minor_ thing."

"_What was it?_" Brian growled, clenching his fists. "It better not have been the same thing Meg wanted."

"Did she want to _MODIFY YOUR DNA?_" Stewie suddenly shouted evilly, as he pulled out a hypodermic needle and flashed the point in Brian's direction.

Brian fell back in surprise and stared at Stewie, stunned. "Wh- _What_? You_ changed my DNA? _What did you _do_ to it?"

"Oh, only a _minor_ thing," Stewie repeated innocently. "I reversed your aging mechanism. Now, instead of aging seven years for every one human year, you will age one year for every seven human years. So, in effect, you shall live to the same age as me."

Brian blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. "Uh ... wow. You did that?"

"Of _course_ I did, Brian!" said Stewie, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But it's not _all_ I did ..." he added, chuckling ominously.

"What? What else did you do? _Tell me!_" shouted Brian, suddenly furious again.

"All right, all right, all right," said Stewie coolly, holding up his hands. "The chemicals I used modified a certain gene you possess," he explained, gesturing toward the empty needle. "I believe you've heard of the gene?" he added, grinning evilly again. "It was on the news..."

He stopped to enjoy the effect of these words. Brian's gaze drifted upward as he thought hard, and suddenly his eyes widened in pure, utter horror. "Oh ... my ... God," he gasped, dumbstruck.

He lowered his gaze to Stewie again, and there was pure hatred in his eyes this time, as he once again clenched his fists. "_YOU TURNED ME GAY?_"

"Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but yes," said Stewie calmly, twirling the needle in his hands. "You now find men, not women, sexually attractive. And suddenly you and your cousin have more in common than ever before..."

"What — I don't — you have got to be —" Brian spluttered, his words constricted by rage as he held his face in his hands. "_WHY THE HELL?_" he finally shouted, forcing Stewie against the wall. "This is the most selfish thing I've ever heard of in my life, Stewie!"

"Perhaps," said Stewie idly. "But it can also be beautiful, Brian. Just watch."

And without warning he leaned forward and locked lips with Brian. Too stunned to draw away or even to react, Brian stepped backward and Stewie stepped forward in response, wrapping his arms around Brian's waist.

Behind them, Meg came into the room, and clasped her hands together in delight upon seeing them. "Can I practice kissing next?" she asked hopefully.

* * *

"Dad, why do we have to use nunchucks on Mr. Swanson?" asked Chris, as the two of them approached Joe's house. "I don't think he's done anything wrong."

"Quiet, Chris, I hear him coming," replied Peter, hiding against one of the walls of the house. He peered around the corner to see the front door opening; Joe was rolling out in his wheelchair. Without a second thought Peter gave a yell of "YAAAAARRRGGGGHHH!!" and leaped around the corner toward Joe, spinning his nunchucks in a circle above his head.

Joe's eyes widened as he saw Peter coming; thinking quickly, he spun the wheels on his chair and flipped himself upward, so that when Peter's nunchucks struck him, they hit his legs. Unable to feel anything, Joe was nevertheless blown out of his chair by the force and landed on the ground. Joe groaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

Peter gave another "YAAAAARRRGGGGHHH!!" and came at Joe again; but with the reflexes of a cop, Joe reached toward the nunchucks and snatched the handle out among the blur. The nunchucks became entwined around Peter and Joe's arms; the two men wrestled with them for a moment, unable to break free, before Joe clenched his other fist around the chain and broke it, separating them. The two separate halves fell to the ground and Peter stood up and dusted himself off. Behind him, Chris brought Joe his wheelchair.

"Peter, what the _hell_ was that?" Joe said angrily, pulling himself up. "I could have been killed!"

"Oh, c'mon, Joe, you're a cop," said Peter nonchalantly. "You've seen more life-threatening things than that. Like that time you —" he trailed off as his gaze suddenly fixed on something behind the two of them. "Oh, CRAP."

"BUCKAAAAAAAWWWWWW!!"

A huge yellow blur came flying out of nowhere and tackled Peter to the ground.

The giant chicken had struck again!

Peter yelled as the chicken began punching him, and began punching back even harder. The two of them struggled to their feet and continued punching, lashing out with kicks as well. Peter began backing up, and their duel took them through the entire neighborhood, as they smashed through houses and climbed over cars. Peter grabbed a tire off of one of these cars and smashed it over the chicken's head, forcing it around its neck with an evil grin.

The chicken's eyes widened and it clawed at the tire, struggling to breathe. It smashed into the windshield of the car, as Peter continued to punch it, and the tire caught on a piece of glass and deflated. The chicken promptly tore up the tire and held it over Peter's face, smothering him. Peter gasped, trying to breathe, and rolled over; finally he succeeded in kicking the chicken in the gonads and he pulled off the tire, panting.

The chicken, relentless, did not give up, and the two of them continued punching each other. Their fight carried them from suburbia to the city streets, and the duo became responsible for several toppled buildings, as they continued smashing through walls and taking no notice of their surroundings. They eventually crashed their way to the top of a skyscraper, and it rocked under their force; the chicken backed Peter against a wall and the building could take no more. It fell, smashing into a movie theater; Peter and the chicken did not miss a beat and continued fighting, climbing into the theater.

The two of them circled around each other like tigers, preparing for battle. They dove forward at the same time, and slaps and punches and kicks were all exchanged as they fought their way through the theater, tearing through screens and interrupting huge blockbusters such as _Jaws 7_ and _The Land Before Time XXXXIV_. Not noticing the screams and groans of the moviegoers, Peter and the chicken kept fighting, and smashed their way through one last wall into the lobby of the theater.

The girl working the food court screamed and ran to hide as Peter and the chicken forced their way behind the counter, punching each other the whole way and drawing blood. The chicken suddenly lashed out and grasped Peter's ninja mask in his feathers; he tightened his grip and pulled — and ripped the mask off, tearing it to shreds.

Peter's eyes narrowed. The chicken would pay for that.

He lashed out with a fist and struck the chicken in the beak; as it let out a loud "BUCKAAAAWWW!!" Peter kicked it in the stomach and forced it backward, toward the popcorn machine. Before the chicken could spin around, Peter forced its head into the machine and clamped its beak over the popper.

Peter smiled and turned the machine on.

The chicken's eyes widened. The popcorn was popping, overflowing into its mouth, and the chicken's cheeks were inflating as they burned. Peter grimaced, continuing to hold the struggling chicken's head down and pinning its legs to the counter so that it couldn't lash out. The chicken's eyes were bulging. It was almost to exploding point...

With its last ounce of strength the chicken grabbed a bottle of soda off the counter and splashed it on Peter's costume. Surprised, Peter stepped back. "Aaaah!" he cried upon beholding the black fabric. "Mr. Pibb never washes out!!" Grimacing, he ripped off the wet ninja suit to reveal his regular green pants and white shirt underneath, clean and neat.

Meanwhile, the chicken had forced its head out of the machine and was massaging its neck. It whirled around and cast a hateful eye at Peter. "We're going to keep this up forever. Aren't we," the chicken hissed at him.

"Yeah, that or until the writers run out of ideas," said Peter matter-of-factly, staring at him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

And they continued their epic duel. Crashing through the wall of the movie theater, the two of them barreled their way into a shopping mall, smashing stands aside and sending random patrons scurrying for cover. Peter grabbed several necklaces from a toppled jewelry stand and popped them into his mouth. Chewing on them fiercely to break them from their chains, Peter shot the pearls one by one out of his mouth towards the chicken like a gun. The chicken dodged, a la Neo from _The Matrix_, until one of the bullets struck its leg and it let out another loud "BUCKAAAAWWW!!" as it fell to the ground.

Peter grinned through the mouthful of pearls and advanced on the chicken, peppering it with jewelry all the way. The chicken scrambled to its feet and raised its fists again, and as it punched Peter in the stomach, all of the remaining pearls flew out of his mouth and shattered the glass windows of several nearby store outlets. Again taking no notice, Peter and the chicken continued on.

Smashing through several more stands, the duo eventually came to a giant pretzel booth; Peter grabbed one off the rack, salted it, and swallowed it in one gulp, patting his stomach contentedly. The chicken did the same, smiling happily; he then picked up the pretzel machine and tried to smash Peter's head with it. Peter whipped his hands over his head and pushed against the machine; it dropped on the chicken's foot and the chicken clutched said foot in its wings, howling and hopping on the other foot.

The chicken glared at Peter, and Peter picked up the rest of the pretzels and tried to force-feed them to the chicken, hoping to eat him to death. The chicken gagged, choking, and fell and hit his back against the ground; this dislodged the huge chunk of food in the chicken's throat and he coughed it into the air. It flew upward and fell back down again; landing on Peter's head; Peter licked at it, smiled at the good taste, then wiped the rest of it off as the chicken stood up. The two of them clenched their fists and began punching each other yet again.

The duo barreled their way through the mall, tearing through several fast-food restaurants, notably _McDonald's_, _Burger King_, _Carl's Jr._, and _In-N-Out_ (all of which had almost nothing to do with blatant product placement). Finally ending up in another store that had nearly no relation at all to _Taco Bell_, Peter and the chicken smashed through the counter and ended up in the back section with the grills. The chicken ducked one of Peter's punches, and when he barreled forward in surprise, the chicken grabbed his head and tried to force it onto one of the grills. Peter grunted and lashed his head back, trying to fight it, and the back of his head connected with the chicken's beak, severely hurting the both of them. Peter yelled in pain, and the chicken let out another "BUCKAAAAWWW!!"

Shaking off the blood leaking from his head, Peter whirled around and punched the chicken in the face again, hitting its already bleeding beak. The chicken gasped, falling backward, and landed on a grill that had just warmed up. Peter smirked. This chicken was going to end up exactly where it belonged.

"Dude, this is Taco Bell, not KFC," said one of the workers, and was promptly gagged and thrown into a bag by mysterious people in black coats for saying the name that the restaurant was almost completely unrelated to.

Ignoring him, Peter held the chicken's head down. The chicken "BUCKAAAAWWW!!"ed as its feathers began burning, and it lashed out with its bleeding beak and began pecking Peter in the nose; Peter cried out and fell back into a counter stacked with ingredients. Peter looked up, grabbed one of the bottles on the counter and kicked at the chicken; it flew back and smashed through another wall which carried it into another restaurant that was, coincidentally, nearly unrelated to _KFC_ itself. Peter followed through the hole, kicking and punching at the chicken, who retaliated accordingly.

Finally they again reached the back of the restaurant, where the food was made. Workers and customers alike screamed and scattered as they smashed through the cash register, spilling out all the change; a hobo tried to take some of it and was crushed under Peter and the chicken's scuffling feet. The duo clawed their way through the back, until the chicken, kicking the whole way, cornered Peter at the fryers.

Peter lashed out with another punch, but the chicken caught it and forced Peter's fist back into his own face. Peter cried out and fell back, just missing the fryers, and a corner of his shirt was dipped into the grease and was dissolved. Peter gasped and looked up. The chicken was towering over him and smirking proudly. It was going to win.

Peter snarled and pulled out the bottle he had lifted from the non-_Taco Bell_. The label read simply: _Hot Sauce_.

Peter caught the chicken's coming kick, forced its foot back upward, and when the chicken fell back, stood up and squirted the Hot Sauce straight into the chicken's eyes.

"**BUCKAAAAWWW!!"**

Blinded and in severe pain, the chicken grasped desperately at its own eyes; Peter took this opportunity to kick it in the gonads again and when it doubled over, he forced the chicken's head into the fryer. The chicken kicked and clawed fiercely, but Peter held it down under the grease; longer and longer the struggle continued, and Peter, panting, did his best to keep the hold. The chicken was flailing ... its bloody limbs were lashing out every which way ... it was struggling ... it was weakening ... it was slowing down.

Peter removed his hands and the chicken's body flopped lifelessly over the fryer. Its head remained submerged. It wasn't moving.

Peter sighed. It was over.

He stepped cautiously through the hole in the restaurant and back onto the city roads, which were left disastrous and chaotic from the epic fight. Bloodied, torn and battle-scarred, Peter walked toward the setting sun.

It was time to go home.

But behind him, back in the restaurant_..._

The chicken's leg twitched.

* * *

Panting, Peter rejoined Joe and Chris, who stared at him, wide-eyed. "Sorry about that," he gasped. "Anyway, Joe, you've seen more life-threatening things than that. Like that time you accidentally pissed off Shaquille O'Neal."

* * *

"Whoa, man, you're really tall," said Joe in admiration as he gazed up at the practicing basketball player, who aside from him was the only one in the arena. "I wish I could be that tall."

"IS THAT A COME-ON?" thundered Shaq as he whirled around, clenching his fists. "I AIN'T GAY, MAGGOT!"

"Whoa! No, man, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" said Joe, holding up his hands.

"IF YOU AIN'T CAREFUL I'LL MAKE YOU CRIPPLED! OH WAIT! YOU ALREADY ARE! NEVER MIND THEN! YEAAAAAH BABY!!"

And Shaq walked off.

* * *

Brian was shaking. His back was pressed against Lois and Peter's bedroom door, and he slid down into a sitting position, shivering.

He hated himself. He absolutely, positively, _completely_ hated himself. Stewie had hit on him. Stewie had turned him gay. Stewie had locked lips with him and he ... and he had liked it ... Brian sobbed and rested his head in his paws. Tears leaked out of his eyes, dampening the fur, and he sniffled and wiped his nose.

"Brian?"

Brian leaped to his feet in shock. Lois had apparently been taking a shower, and she now stepped out of her bathroom wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair. Brian blinked, expecting to feel an unnerving thrill at the sight — and felt nothing. He couldn't feel anything. And this only reminded him of what Stewie had done to him.

The thought was too much for him and his eyes filled with tears again. Gulping, he tried to hold it back. He couldn't let Lois see him like this. She would know something was up. "H-hi, Lois."

"Brian, what's the matter?" Lois asked, concerned, as she kneeled down in front of him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You look awful."

"I-I-I'm fine," Brian stammered, wiping his eyes. "I - I was cutting up an onion."

"Oh," Lois said, finding something fishy with this statement. "I wasn't aware that onions made your chest heave. You were sobbing awfully hard ... are you sure that's it?" she added sympathetically.

"Y-yeah, o-of course!" said Brian, trying (and utterly failing) to laugh. "Well, with these onions it was like swallowing four jalapeños at once, like Peter did that one t—"

"Brian. Don't try to turn this into a flashback," said Lois seriously. "I _know_ something's wrong. Now _tell_ me."

Brian wiped his eyes, ashamed. "It ... it's nothing, Lois..."

"Did Stewie do something?" asked Lois, and Brian froze. "You mentioned he was giving you trouble earlier..."

"S-Stewie? O-of course not!" Brian said, again trying to laugh. "He's ... he's just being his regular happy self! Y-you could say he's so happy he's gay!"

Brian's eyes widened and he clapped a paw over his mouth, unable to believe what he had just said. In front of him, Lois gave him a funny look. "What do you mean, Brian?"

"I-I mean he's gay like happy! Like, happy gay! Like the Christmas carols say — _Don we now our gay apparel, fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la!_" Brian sang, rather loudly.

"Brian, you're scaring me," said Lois, staring.

"_Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the Yuletide gay, from now on our troubles will be miles awaaaaay!!_" Brian belted madly, stumbling around the room as he sang. "_Gaily they ring, while people sing, songs of good cheer, CHRISTMAS IS HERE!!_" he hollered, until finally he flopped on the bed, panting. He was pretty sure he was going insane.

"Are you done?" asked Lois as she stood up, her hands on her hips.

Panting, Brian nodded, not getting up from the bed.

"Good. Now, listen." Lois sat down beside him and rubbed his neck and back fur comfortingly. "I don't know what's going on that made you like this, and it's clear you don't exactly want to talk about it. But ... just try not to let it get to you, okay, Brian? Nothing's worth getting this upset over."

Brian laid there as she rubbed his neck, absorbing her words. There was silence for a moment, and then finally, he sighed and spoke. "You know what, Lois, you're right," he said determinedly. He stood up, striking a triumphant stance on the bed. "Trying to run away isn't the answer. I am going to _confront_ this problem head on, and I'm going to do it _right now!_" He clenched a fist and brought it down on his other paw determinedly.

He turned around and gave Lois a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Lois," he said sincerely, then jumped off the bed and bolted out of the room.

Lois stared after him, and her hand slowly wandered to the spot on her cheek where Brian had kissed her. That had been the first kiss he had ever given her that hadn't seemed vaguely sexual. It was just ... friendly.

Lois wondered if she should be concerned.


	9. The Drama Builds

"All right, Chris, your final test as a ninja," said Peter, crossing his arms. "It is now nighttime. And you must infiltrate _this_ house," he pointed, "and capture its inhabitant, without waking them. Any questions, my ninja apprentice?"

"Why do I have to be a ninja in the first place?" asked Chris simply.

"No more questions. Now, GO!" shouted Peter, shoving his son toward the driveway of the house. Peter then ran across the street and dove into a bush in a neighbor's yard, where he popped up with a pair of binoculars to monitor Chris's progress.

"Hmmm ... Chris seems rather ... tiny lately," Peter commented, unaware that he was holding the binoculars backwards.

Chris slowly took out his pair of nunchucks and spun them as he had seen Peter do, breaking a window in the top floor of the house and lodging one end of the chain on the edge. Chris then scaled the side of the house, carefully walking up the wall with his feet, doing his best not to make a sound.

Once he reached the top, Chris pulled the end of the nunchucks up, climbing through the broken window in the process. However, he slipped, and unceremoniously fell to the floor, making a large WHUMP sound. Chris cringed, but the owner of the house didn't seem to have heard.

Slowly Chris stood up and brushed himself off, turning on the light to the room. What he saw made his mouth drop open.

The walls were covered with pictures of him.

Every inch of the wall had a picture of Chris — on his bicycle, in a tree, tossing newspapers, walking away, turning around, horsing around with Meg — there were even a few pictures of him in the bathroom. The entire room was a shrine to Chris, and one of the dressers had a hairbrush on top of it with hair that was, presumably, Chris's as well. There was also a teddy bear next to the brush, and an empty box of popsicles. Last in line was a jar labeled TIPS, which was filled to the brim with change. Stacked next to the dresser was a pile of newspapers — every copy Chris had ever given out on his paper route.

Chris's eyes roved the room. "Wow. Someone's been keeping track of me really well," he commented, unfazed by any of it.

A light clicked on in the hallway next to the room, and Chris froze. Before he could do anything, however, a walker came into view. Following it was old man Herbert. His eyes widened as he saw Chris.

"Holey moley, Jessie, it's gotta be Christmas," he whistled to his dog, which was dragging itself on the floor behind him.

Chris's eyes widened and he looked down. Until now, he had been unaware that the broken glass on the window had ripped all his clothes to shreds. They had all fallen off. He was standing in the nude.

Mr. Herbert promptly fainted, clutching at his chest; but as he did so, his face broke into a wide grin.

* * *

Peter watched all of this silently through the binoculars, although he was somewhat unable to tell what was going on, as he had never figured out that the binoculars had to be turned the other way. However, as soon as Chris fell into the house with a large WHUMP, there came a loud police siren, and Peter gasped, hastily storing the binoculars away.

Joe came into view, and there was a pole hooked onto his wheelchair, on top of which were holstered the typical red and blue police lights, blaring away. Peter gasped again and ducked, but it was too late: Joe had spotted him.

"Peter, you and Chris are under arrest for disturbin' the peace and breaking and entering," said Joe severely, as he crossed his arms and glared at the bush where Peter was hiding.

"Ain't nobody here but us leaves," Peter said innocently.

"Peter, that doesn't even make sense," Joe replied.

"Well, why don't you ask the leaves what they _mean_, then?" Peter shot back angrily, jumping out of the bush; too late he realized what he had done. "Aw, crap."

Joe pushed his wheelchair forward, wielding a pair of handcuffs; and Peter held up his hands and backed away, very much unsettled. "Hey, hey, hey, come on, Joe, don't be like that. Let's talk about this."

"There isn't anything to talk about, Peter," Joe replied angrily, still pushing his wheelchair. "You're coming with me."

"Aw, c'mon, Joe, we're _friends_!" Peter said, laughing nervously. "You wouldn't turn in a _friend_, now, would you?"

"I'll do what I must, Peter," said Joe solemnly, holding the handcuffs out. "I'll do what I must."

Peter stopped, blinking, and crossed his arms. "Oh, I can _not_ believe you used that line on me. That's as bad as when Paris Hilton wheedled her way out of jail early."

* * *

"Chief, we called you here because inmate 445866 is refusing to eat the meals served to her," the jail guard explained as he led the county sheriff to Paris's jail cell. "We thought you might be able to reason with her. I'll leave you two alone, then."

The jail guard left, leaving the sheriff alone in front of the cell bars, and Paris sitting on her cell bed, pouting childishly. "Hilton ... ya gotta eat sometime," said the sheriff, staring her down severely.

Paris blinked, coming out of her sulking long enough to look seductive. "True ..." she said, as she slinked off her bed and toward the sheriff, and she reached through the bars, playing with his collar. "But I've thought of something _else_ I could taste, too."

The sheriff blinked, highly uncomfortable, and he smiled nervously. "Well, uh, should we talk, then?"

"Oh, we can do _more_ than talk," Paris smiled, fingering his belt.

A couple of cells away, two inmates listened to the conversation with disgust. "Seriously, is sex the only thing she's famous for?" said one to the other.

* * *

"Enough stalling, Peter, you're coming with me," said Joe, pushing his wheelchair forward and reaching out the cuffs.

"ABANDON MISSION!!" Peter shouted wildly at the house, hoping Chris would hear him, and he turned and sprinted down the street, screaming wildly all the way. Joe gave a shout and rapidly wheeled himself forward in pursuit, his arms a blur as he pushed at the chair. "Peter, come back, or I'll tack on _resisting arrest_ too!" he bellowed.

Through the streets of suburbia they went, with Peter rounding corners and jumping fences, and Joe always managing to follow close behind. Peter continued yelling as he vaulted from house to house, trying desperately to lose his friend, and Joe gave a fierce battle cry as he followed. Their yelling was obviously waking up the neighbors, for lights were being turned on in every house; but Joe and Peter didn't care, and continued the chase.

Finally Peter rounded a corner to find he had entered a cul-de-sac. It was a dead end. Peter looked around wildly. "What do I do?" he babbled to himself, nervously biting his nails. "Whaddo I do whaddo I do whaddo I do?"

Suddenly Peter remembered, and he stopped biting his nails. "I can _be a ninja_, that's what I can do!" he shouted, striking a triumphant pose.

Panting, his arms burning, Joe rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac. He had seen Peter enter the street seconds before, he had heard him babbling to himself ... but as Joe slowed to a halt, and looked around the street, he couldn't see Peter anywhere. He had left no trace behind him.

"Peter,_ where the hell are you?_" Joe shouted down the street.

"You can't seeeeeeeeee me," came Peter's taunting voice, seemingly from nowhere, and he giggled happily once again.

Behind Joe came Chris, who was shivering in the night air. Frustrated, Joe turned around and spotted him, gasping in shock. "Oh, God, Chris, you're nude!" he said, shielding his eyes.

"Mr. Swanson? Um ... if I promise to turn my dad in, could I get some clothes?" Chris asked, discreetly covering himself.

* * *

Unaware of the drama playing out down the street, Brian darted through the house, searching desperately for Stewie. The two of them were alone, as Lois and Meg had gone out shopping, but Brian couldn't find Stewie anywhere. The baby was obviously avoiding him after the falling out earlier today, something that angered Brian to no end. He looked in cupboards, behind bookshelves, under couch cushions, anywhere a baby could hide — but had no luck. Finally Brian jumped off the couch and paced the living room, fuming.

"Stewie,_ you had better come out!_" said Brian, and then realized the awkward wording of that statement. "I mean, _stop hiding!_ I need to talk to you _right now!_"

Brian darted for the kitchen, and made to continue the search; but his cell phone suddenly vibrated, and he stopped long enough to pull it out. "_Wake me up, before you go-go, 'cause I'm not plannin' on goin' solo..._" came the musical voice of the ringtone.

"Must be Jasper," Brian muttered, then flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Brian, thank heaven!" came Jasper's voice over the phone; he sounded panicked and harried. In the background, a woman's voice could be heard, panting and grunting.

"Jasper? What's the matter?" said Brian, concerned, and he put a finger in his other ear to hear his cousin better.

"Listen, the puppies are on their way, and we've got Miss Spears in the back of our car," explained Jasper hurriedly. "But the traffic is _horrible_, and it looks like she's about to give birth in the middle of the West Quahog town square! None of her births have been all-natural, Brian, we need a doctor. Otherwise she'll miscarriage!"

Brian blinked. "...Wait, _what?_" he finally said, shocked. "What are you doing in Quahog? I thought you were in Hollywood!"

"Your little friend didn't tell you?" said Jasper, sounding confused. "He invited us over the other day. Said that your whole family thought that the blessed event should happen in the same place where Ricardo and I got married. Isn't that romantic?" he added with a sigh.

Brian rubbed his forehead. This was too much. "Wait, wait, hold on. _Stewie invited you over?_" he finally repeated, dumbstruck.

"Well, yes," said Jasper, obviously perplexed that Brian hadn't heard. "He also mentioned that you had to tell us something?"

Brian didn't reply immediately, just let all of this sink in. Stewie must have heard their phone conversation the other day; maybe he had even listened in on it. That would explain both this and his resolution to turn Brian gay. Oh, but there would be hell to pay when Brian found Stewie...

"All right, Jasper, I'm on my way," said Brian, trying to remain focused. "I'll get there as fast as I can; just _stay calm_."

"Hurry, Brian!" said Jasper, and in the background Ricardo could be heard, telling Britney (in Tagalog) to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. This didn't seem to be working too well, as Britney was screaming rather painfully. "I'M NOT USED TO THIS!" came her shout.

"We're all rooting for you, Jasper, just keep a level head!" said Brian, and hung up quickly, darting toward the front door. Maybe he could take his car and —

"_Excuse_ me?" came a voice, and Brian skidded to a halt. Standing in front of the door was Stewie; he had obviously overheard their conversation. "You can _not_ take your car out there. Didn't you hear the man? They're stuck in traffic!"

"Look, Stewie, I _don't_ have time for this," growled Brian, clenching his fists as he stared down at the baby. "I'm not even supposed to be _talking_ to you right now!"

"Oh, for God's sake, you're going to let a petty little feud get in the way of your cousin's first birth?" said Stewie, crossing his arms.

"A _petty little feud?_" Brian exploded. "You turned me gay, Stewie! You _tried to make out with me!_ If you consider that a 'petty little feud', I'd hate to see a real _conflict!_"

"Oh, would _this_ be 'a real conflict,' then?" shot back Stewie, deliberately not moving out of Brian's way. "All I see is an angry little dog refusing to accept fate. Why can't you just give things a chance, Brian?"

Brian was about to reply quite scathingly, and also call Stewie out on his use of numerous clichés, but Peter chose that moment to barrel through the front door, still in his ninja costume. The wood splintered as he fell through it, screaming; Brian and Stewie both ducked, and he sailed over them and crashed into the couch. Totally unaffected, Peter popped back up again. "Lock the door! Quick!" he said to them, panicked.

"How?" said Stewie dryly, gesturing toward the large hole.

"FREEZE!" shouted Joe as he poked his head through the hole, and his arms followed. In his hands he held a gun, which he pointed at the three of them. Behind Joe, Chris (dressed in a spare police uniform) looked on, stunned.

Slowly Peter, Brian, and Stewie all put their hands up — and then something occurred to Brian. "Joe, you have medical training, don't you?" he asked quickly.

Joe gave him a funny look, but answered nonetheless. "Of course I do, Brian, it's all a part of being a police officer," he said proudly, then added, "NOW PUT YOUR HANDS BACK UP, MAGGOT!"

Brian complied hastily, but asked, "Can you give birth?"

Joe blinked. "Well, I suppose I could, if the situation demanded it," he said slowly. "Why?"

"Because my cousin Jasper is trapped in West Quahog traffic and he really needs a doctor because Britney Spears is about to have his puppies," explained Brian in a rush, not pausing for breath.

"Also, he's gay," added Stewie helpfully.

Unaware whether Stewie was referring to him or Jasper, Brian asked, "Joe, please, could you help us? I promise you can do whatever you want with Peter afterwards." ("Hey!" shouted Peter from the sofa.) "Okay, and the rest of us as well. But my cousin really needs help right now, and you're the only one who can do it ... will you?"

"Please?" added Stewie, his eyes wide.

Joe was silent for a moment, and the gun in his hands twitched briefly; finally he lowered it and nodded seriously. "All right." He glanced around the room, and added, "But you all will have to come with me for detaining afterwards. Let's go." He turned his wheelchair around and began rolling towards the driveway.

"Pardon me, but how are we going to beat the traffic?" asked Stewie, as he, Brian and Peter climbed through the wrecked door.

"We'll take an alternate mode of transportation," said Joe, and he turned the police lights on his wheelchair back on. "Hop on, everyone."

Brian and Stewie climbed onto Joe's lap (Brian trying very hard to ignore how close he was to Stewie), and Peter and Chris hoisted themselves onto the back of the chair. It wobbled precariously, but managed to hold under their weight, and Joe gave a grunt and rolled himself forward. With each push of his arms the wheelchair gained speed, and soon they were dashing through the streets toward West Quahog. "WE'RE ON OUR WAY!!" shouted Joe, his voice echoing through the night air.

Brian pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, handing it to Stewie. "Call Lois and tell her where we are," he said.

Stewie took the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello, Lois?" he said after a moment. "I WILL KILL YOU!"

Brian snatched the phone out of his hands. "Never mind, I'll do it myself."


	10. Special Delivery

"Almost there!" Joe shouted as he whirled his wheelchair around a corner, into the center of the West Quahog town square. Traffic was indeed bumper to bumper — cars were not moving at all, and in some cases the drivers had gotten out to smoke, talk or (in many cases) make out with one another. Brian didn't know what was weirder — that most of these makeout sessions were all-male, or that said makeout sessions were seriously turning him on.

"Take a good, long look, Brian," smiled Stewie evilly, as he patted the dog's knee. "Do you like what you see? Because I know I do."

"Shut _up_, Stewie," Brian growled, deliberately looking away and crossing his arms. "I'm still not talking to you."

Stewie simply smirked. "All right, Brian, I know when I've touched a nerve," he said, and looked away, still grinning to himself.

Ignoring Stewie, Brian whipped out his cell phone again and dialed Jasper's number. "Jasper, we're almost there, which one's your car?" he asked with a forced calmness, and looked around as Joe continued to speed through the streets, deftly maneuvering through the stopped vehicles.

"We're in the rented pink Honda, right in front of the statue of Richard Simmons," came Jasper's report; he sounded as panicked as Brian felt. In the background came a crash and the sound of glass shattering; Britney's latest contraction had apparently caused her immense pain and she had kicked out one of the windows. This was followed by several screamed obscenities, and Brian quickly shut the phone off again.

"THERE!" he shouted to Joe, pointing straight ahead as Jasper's car came into view. With a grunt, Joe heaved himself forward, and with one last burst of speed the wheelchair screeched to a halt in front of the driver's side door. Through the window, Jasper gave a relieved shout and whipped the door open, pulling Brian into a hug.

"Good to see you again, cousin," Brian smiled, patting Jasper on the back.

"You too, Bee-ri," smiled Jasper, as they separated; his smile soon vanished, however, as Britney gave another shout. Jasper looked back, then at Brian as he said, "You can tell me the big news in a little bit, I hope?"

"Of course," Brian said, hopping off of Joe's wheelchair, "Because right now, we've got some puppies to deliver!" Gesturing behind him, he added, "Jasper, meet Joe Swanson. He's a trained cop."

"My stars!" cried Jasper, extending a paw. "Good to meet you, Joe."

"You too, Jasper," Joe nodded, shaking the dog's paw. "Now then, where's the lucky mother?"

"Oh, she's right back here," said Jasper, and he hopped out of the car to open the backseat door. There, indeed, was the one and only Miss Britney Spears; her stomach was swelled to much larger than normal and she was pushing against the back of the driver's seat with her feet, sweating profusely. Her head whipped around as she saw Joe, and she said, in a pleading voice, "Can you _please_ make the pain stop?"

"In a bit, Miss Spears," said Joe, ever the professional, and he wheeled up next to her, pulling on a glove. "What I need you do to right now is lay down across the backseat and take some deep breaths..."

"Wow, Dad, we get to see Britney Spears give birth!" said Chris as the both of them hopped off of the wheelchair as well. "This is gonna be more exciting than waiting in line for the next Harry Potter book!"

* * *

"_I'm_ Professor McGonagall," said a twelve year old dressed in dark green robes, as she waited in the bookstore line that stretched clear around the block and back again.

"_I'm_ Nymphadora Tonks," countered the girl in front of her, whose hair was shaded purple. "_She's_ the best."

"Well,_ I'm_ Dumbledore!" said a college guy several places up in the line, as he turned to look at the two of them. "Dumbledore beats _all_ of you!"

"He died in Book Six," came the bored reply of the Tonks girl.

"And doesn't it seem like he was gay to you? Like, flamboyantly?" added the girl dressed as McGonagall. "You're wearing bright purple robes."

The man in front of them blinked. "Well, if that's the case, then I'll be staying true to myself when I dress like him," he replied cheerfully.

There was silence for a very, very long time, broken only by the chirp of crickets and the ticking of all the fans' digital watches. Someone in the line coughed.

"How long is it till midnight?" asked the McGonagall girl.

* * *

"Keep pushing, Miss Spears, you're almost there!" called Joe, as he snapped on another glove and prepared to deliver the puppies.

"Oh, GOD, it HURTS!" shouted Britney, panting and groaning. "I can't believe I agreed to go through with this a third time..."

"That'd be an 'Oops, you did it again', then?" asked Stewie, laughing uproariously at his own comment. "Come on, baby, just _one_ more time..."

"Enough with the bad referential jokes!" Brian shouted, then turned back to Jasper, who was nibbling his paws nervously as he watched Joe and Britney. Beside him, Ricardo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Brian did the same, and asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm just _so_ worried," said Jasper nervously. "What if something goes wrong? What if they end up like all her other children? What if —"

"We've got something here!" called Joe, and Jasper gasped, moving forward with Ricardo. "Wait a minute ..." There was a loud, squelching POP, and Joe called out triumphantly, "ONE PUPPY!"

POP! "Two!"

POP! "Three!"

POP! POP! POP! "Four! Five! Six!"

There was silence for a moment. Then...

POP!

"SEVEN!" called Joe jubilantly, "That's the last of it — SEVEN puppies!"

Laughing and cheering with relief and happiness, all of the family moved in close to the car to get a good look. Jasper climbed into the backseat with Britney as the Princess of Pop laid back down, looking sweaty and exhausted but pleased with her efforts. Jasper gave her a grateful hug, then turned to the new members of the family.

Small, white, and unbelievably cute, Britney's puppies were their father in miniature. They blinked and squinted confusedly, seemingly amazed by their surroundings; and as everyone gathered around the seven of them, they reluctantly allowed themselves to be picked up.

"Oh, they're _adorable_," gushed Jasper, cradling one of them in his arms. The pup blinked up at him, its eyes wide and innocent. "Aw, you hungry?" Jasper asked, and he produced a baby bottle filled to the brim with milk, offering it to the pup. The little dog gave an excited squeak and latched onto it eagerly, drinking away.

"Jasper, they're beautiful!" said Brian, holding one up to get a closer look. He scratched the puppy behind its ears, and it sighed contentedly, also letting itself be cradled. "All three of you should be so proud."

"Look at the size of these little guys!" said Peter, holding one up to his face so that he and the pup were eye to eye. "They look just_ like_ you and Brian, Jasper! Except they're all ... all _wee._"

Chris giggled. "Hehehe! Wee!" he said, spinning around with the pup he was holding, and she gave a little squeaky laugh. "Hey, look Dad, I'm giving her an airplane ride!"

Ricardo also beamed and picked up one of the pups. He didn't say anything, just gazed into the little dog's eyes, and the both of them smiled. Ricardo gave the pup a gentle hug, and petted her neck. The pup gave a happy squeak and nuzzled Ricardo's cheek.

Still cradling the first pup, Jasper picked up another one, cradling each of them with one arm. He looked up at Joe, and his eyes were full of gratitude. "Mr. Swanson... thank you."

"Just doing my job, Jasper," said Joe professionally, saluting; then he lowered his arm and looked more closely at the puppies Jasper was holding. Seeing what he had in mind, Jasper smiled and passed one of the puppies to Joe, who then (to everyone's shock) squealed with girlish happiness and scratched the pup's tummy. "Who's a cute puppy?" asked Joe in baby-talk, and the puppy giggled and kicked its paws. "Who's a cute puppy? You are! Yes you are! Yes you are!" Joe said, blowing on its tummy. "Belly-buzzer!"

Stewie blinked. "Wow. That was very much against the usual tough-cop persona..." He gave a sigh and climbed into the backseat, where one puppy still remained, nuzzling against Britney. Once the little dog spotted Stewie, however, it blinked curiously, then shuffled over to where the baby was standing, intrigued.

For once, Stewie was at a loss for what to do. "Erm ... hello," he said, waving awkwardly at the pup. "I'm ... I'm Stewie. Stewart Gilligan Griffin."

The puppy blinked again, then licked Stewie's face with a loud, wet slurp. "No no no no, don't, don't!" cried Stewie, backing away, but the pup continued to lick at him. "Stop! Stop I say! Cease with this madness!"

Finally the pup finished the slurping and sat back on its haunches, tilting its head curiously at Stewie.

Stewie stared at it for a moment, fists clenched; then he lowered them and sighed. "All right, you want to play? I suppose we'll play then."

He sat down in front of the dog and the two of them began to play a game. "Now. This is called 'patty-cake'," Stewie instructed, touching his hand to the dog's paw. "First you clap here, then here, and all the while you say, 'Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man'..."

Still scratching the ears of the pup he held, Brian watched Stewie and smiled. So Stewie _did_ have a heart after all, at least, sometimes. Stewie, still playing with the pup, looked up and caught Brian's eye; he didn't stop the game, but when he looked back at the pup there was a definite smile playing about Stewie's features.

Chris continued to whirl his puppy around, and the two of them giggled; finally Chris had to stop as he reached Joe, who was also still playing with his puppy. It was here that a thought occurred to Chris, and as he patted the pup's head he said, "Hey, Joe, now that you're finished giving Britney Spears medical attention, could you think about getting some for old Mr. Herbert? Because I think I gave him a heart attack."

* * *

"I can finally die happy, Jessie," moaned Herbert, as he laid on the floor and clutched his chest. Beside him, Jessie nodded and licked his lips, and Herbert put his head back down, staring dreamily at the ceiling. "Mmmmmm."

* * *

"Also, he'd had a potato in his pants," added Chris, as an afterthought. He was about to add more, but Peter chose this moment to head over to Britney, who was still lying down in the backseat with her legs spread. Without another thought Peter lifted Britney's skirt and looked.

"Hehehehe, I can see your privates again!" said Peter happily.

Beside him, Brian covered the eyes of the puppy he was holding. This was not going to end well.


	11. More Than A Friend

Thanks to the help of Joe's handy police siren, Jasper, Ricardo and Britney had managed to weave their way through the rest of the traffic and were now sitting in the maternity ward of the Quahog hospital, where Peter, Brian, Chris and Stewie had followed them. Britney was in bed, recuperating as she watched television; Joe and Dr. Hartman were talking quietly in the hallway; Jasper and Ricardo were feeding the puppies; and Chris and Peter were playing with the ones who had already been fed. Brian sat in a chair next to Britney's bed, reading an old magazine from the waiting room (_Time: New Year for Nixon_), and Stewie sat in the chair next to him, every so often trying to catch Brian's eye, but failing. It seemed that Brian was determined to ignore him, at least for now.

"Eeenie, meenie, minie, moe, catch a puppy by the toe," Peter said cheerfully, as he pointed a finger at each of the the pups accordingly. "If he hollers, let him ... uh..." Peter paused in thought, "...let him do my mother who told me to pick the sexiest one and ... er..."

"You are it, Dad," Chris finished for his father, as he patted one of the puppies on the head.

"I'm what, Chris?" Peter asked.

"You are it," Chris replied, looking at his father questioningly. "That's the end of the game."

"What's the end of the game?" said Peter, even more confused.

"_It's_ the end of the game!" Chris responded, while the puppies simply looked on, slightly puzzled.

"I know _it's_ the end of the game, but what the hell is _it_?" Peter asked, starting to grow angry.

"What the hell's _what,_ Dad? You're confusing me."

Before Peter could reply, and effectively turn the entire conversation into an Abbott and Costello skit, Lois and Meg burst through the door, panting hard and carrying armfuls of shopping bags. "We came as soon as we heard!" Lois gasped. "How are they?"

"They're_ fine_, they're fine," Brian said reassuringly, putting the magazine down and standing up. "Britney here pulled through magnificently."

"Yes, she was absolutely _fabulous_," said Jasper cheerfully, putting a paw on her hand; Britney looked over at him and smiled slightly. "And it doesn't hurt that she's drop-dead gorgeous!"

"A matter of opinion," Brian coughed, then turned back to Lois. "You and Meg are just in time to see the last of the pups being fed. Do you want to help Ricardo out?"

"Sure!" said Meg, heading over and picking up one of the puppies; Ricardo handed her a baby bottle and she gently held it over the pup's mouth. The pup blinked at it, looking bored, but eventually grabbed it and began drinking, like the others. Meg laughed and petted its head. "They're _so_ adorable!"

"That they are," smiled Lois, taking the last one into her arms and doing the same. This pup drank much more eagerly, and the formula in the bottle was gone within seconds; the pup then gave a contented yawn and settled down in Lois's arms for a nap.

"My God, it's an overload of _cute_," groaned Stewie, hopping off his chair and approaching Brian. "Dog, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I wonder, might we take a trip to the hallway?"

Brian, still angry at Stewie, didn't respond at first; but he eventually gave a noncommittal grunt and said, "Fine." The two of them then headed for the door, unnoticed by the rest of the family, as all of them were busy with the seven pups. Stewie took this opportunity to reach out for Brian's paw and take it in his hand as they walked, but Brian immediately pulled his paw back, and after several more failed attempts Stewie desisted.

Behind the two of them, Jasper hopped up on the bed next to Britney, placing a paw on her shoulder. "So, we'll give you a few months to recover and relax, then it's Ricardo's turn. How's that sound?"

Britney shrugged. "Hey, so long as you got the cash, it doesn't matter to me. You know, I wish Kevin had been more like that, to be honest."

"Yeah," said Peter, joining Jasper by the bedside, "and whatever it is, it's gotta be a better moneymaker than that time I tried to sell my own TV show."

* * *

"See, it's about this wacky New England-type family," said Peter excitedly, setting his script down in front of the studio directors. "It has a big, loudmouthed retarded guy, a crazy stay-at-home mom, two funny kids, and a talking dog and baby. Plus — and here's the best part," he added, pointing at the directors and winking, "the show's full of random pop culture flashbacks that have nothing to do with the plot or narrative!"

There was complete silence at the director's table, as all five of the men stared at Peter. Peter blinked back at them, and the men blinked at Peter, until finally the one in the center leaned forward and said, quite blandly, "Yeah, there's no market for that kind of thing. Get him out of here!" he called at a nearby security guard.

* * *

Brian and Stewie shut the door to the ward behind them and slowly walked down the hallway. Brian wasn't really sure where Stewie was leading him, and didn't much care; he wasn't even certain if he wanted to hear what Stewie had to say in the first place. Instead, Brian listened in on Joe and Dr. Hartman's conversation as he walked by.

"Mr. Swanson, I'm sorry to tell you this," Dr. Hartman was saying solemnly, as he placed a hand on Joe's shoulder, "but you will be permanently paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of your life."

Joe didn't respond for a moment, only glaring at Hartman. "Doc, I knew that," he finally said in a very low voice. "I just wanted to know if Miss Spears will be all right."

"Oh, she'll be fine," Hartman said nonchalantly, pulling out a slip of paper from his clipboard. "Fined for indecent exposure, that is! We caught another crotch shot of her as she was getting out of the taxi."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered, "I'll have to see that online about fifty million times."

"Ah well, she'll just have to grin and bear it like she always does," Dr. Hartman said, putting the paper away. "After all, she's bared it more than there are days in the year!" he added, playfully elbowing Joe.

Joe's only response was to roll his eyes again, and at that moment a hospital intern came up to the two of them. "Dr. Hartman...?" said the young man, as he clutched a piece of paper to his chest. "T-this ... is the best patient photo _ever!_" He kissed the picture of Spears getting out of the taxi, and ran off.

Joe watched him go, incredulous. "Doc, you're circulating _copies_ of the photo?"

"Sure!" said Hartman cheerfully. "There's plenty to go around. Besides, it's good for business!" He laughed. "Good for us to see _her_ business, that is!"

"Doc, you need help," Joe said plainly, as Brian and Stewie continued on.

"Yes, yes, as is clear by anything that comes out of the mouth of that disgusting hack," Stewie said with distaste, glancing back at Hartman. "He's almost worse than the ruler of our country."

"That's saying a lot," Brian commented, as the two of them turned a corner. "By the way, Stewie, where are we going?"

"Oh, nowhere," Stewie said innocently, though his smile said something else. "I just want to _talk_, Brian."

"Sure you do," Brian said sarcastically, but continued to follow Stewie down the hallway, until they reached a plain-looking blue door. Stewie swung it open and pulled Brian through, and then shut the door behind the two of them.

Inside, Brian flicked a switch, and a very small light bulb turned on. "A janitorial closet," Brian said, looking around. "You couldn't have picked something a little less claustrophobic?"

"Oh, I could have," Stewie replied, sitting down on top of a box of surgical gloves, "but things would have been less ... _private_ that way." He flashed another knowing grin at Brian, patting the box next to his. "Why don't you have a seat, dear Brian?"

Brian pressed his back against the door, regretting his decision to even leave with Stewie in the first place. "I'm _not_ going to make out with you, Stewie, so you can stop dropping hints," he said angrily, crossing his arms. "I shouldn't even be in here right now."

"Oh, please, must everything I say still be misconstrued as a sexual innuendo?" said Stewie, rolling his eyes and standing on the box. "What I was _going_ to say, Brian, was that I was quite impressed with the way you handled yourself with this whole Jasper incident. After all, if you hadn't appealed to Joe to help us out, or assisted your cousin with the puppies' care, why — who _knows_ where all of this might have ended up?"

Brian blinked. This was certainly unexpected. "That's ... interesting," he finally said hesitantly. "...Why are you complimenting me?" he added suspiciously.

Stewie raised his eyebrows at Brian and walked over to stand next to him. "What, a friend's not allowed to tell another friend what they think of them?" he asked simply, also crossing his arms.

"Stewie..." Brian said, hesitating again, "...the problem is, I _know_ you think of me as _more_ than a friend. And, I'm sorry," he added, more firmly now, "but I can never feel the same way towards you."

"Well,_ why_ the hell _NOT?_" Stewie suddenly yelled loudly; his anger had finally gotten the best of him. "You're drawn to me — don't deny it!" he shouted, poking Brian in the chest. "I've seen it in your eyes, in the way you look at me, in the way you're always uncomfortable whenever you're close to me! Don't try to pretend the attraction's not there, Brian, because it _is_, and you _know_ it."

"That's only because _YOU_ turned me gay in the first place!" shouted Brian just as angrily, pushing Stewie back. "It's not _natural_, Stewie, and that's a fact you're well aware of!"

"What's not natural about it?" said Stewie hotly, spreading his arms. "There was an obstacle in the way of our relationship, and I removed it. It's as simple as that, Brian."

"It was an obstacle for _you!_" Brian yelled, positively furious now. "_I_ never wanted to 'get it removed' in the first place! You turned me gay just to fulfill your own sick desires, Stewie, and that's_ not_ something I'm willing to be a part of." He looked Stewie right in the eyes and said lowly, "_That's_ what's not natural about it. The fact is, you took our existing relationship — a _friend_ship — and twisted it for your own gain. And I'm not going to hang out with anyone selfish enough to do that."

"Well, Brian, if you'd just let me, I could show you that turning that friendship into a _relation_ship can be a _good_ thing. Much better than any other relationship you've had in the past, certainly," Stewie growled. His fists were still clenched and his gaze angry, yet there was a slight edge of seductiveness to his voice all the same.

"You _still _don't get it?" Brian shouted, his voice at top volume as he glared at Stewie. "_I don't want to be gay, Stewie!_ There's nothing wrong with it, people like you have as much of a right to be happy with it as anything else, but it's _NOT WHO I AM!_ It's who _you MADE me to be!_"

"Well, of _course_ I made you to be this way!" Stewie yelled back in Brian's face. "_I love you, you son of a bitch!_"

The two of them stood there for a moment, each furious with the other, both of them hot, sweating, and panting from the argument. Brian's eyes never left Stewie's as the two of them glared at each other, and the only sound in the closet was their continued laborious breathing. Finally, his gaze still murderous, Brian stepped forward and raised a paw as if to hit Stewie ... then he dropped it, still not breaking the glare.

"_Damn_ it," Brian growled. "Are you as turned on as I am right now?"

"More than Diane was on _Cheers_," Stewie growled back, and promptly fell into Brian's arms.

* * *

Outside of the hospital, the Quahog 5 news van pulled up in the parking lot, and a camera crew jumped out, hustling Tom and Diane into the elevator and up to the floor with the maternity ward. The crew talked rapidly back and forth as they set up the cameras outside of the door; someone handed Tom and Diane a couple of microphones, another crew member patted on Tom's fake mustache, and a third brushed Diane's hair. "How do I look?" Diane asked quickly as the crew person left, and she fluffed her hair a bit. "Good?"

"You look better than Miss Spears herself," Tucker commented, straightening the mustache as his crew member also left.

Diane stared at him. "You realize that's not saying much."

"Indeed, I do," Tom replied in a bored tone, and despite Diane's glare, the cameras were switched on, and Tom raised his microphone. "Good evening, I'm Tom Tucker," he said.

"And I'm Diane Simmons," said Diane, as per tradition.

"We're here outside of the Quahog hospital where pop legend Britney Spears has just given birth to _puppies_," Tom explained, looking into the camera. "Channel 5 has the exclusive story, as well as an interview with the Princess of Pop herself. Let's check in with her, shall we?"

And Tucker turned around and pushed the door open. Unfortunately, the crew had chosen the wrong door — instead of Spears' room, they had set up in front of the closet that Brian and Stewie were hiding out in. Tucker had pushed open the door just in time for the camera crew to catch Stewie falling into Brian's arms, and Brian promptly closing his eyes and kissing Stewie full on the lips.

The two of them stayed like that for a moment, oblivious, as Tom, Diane and the crew stared at them, stunned. Finally Brian opened his eyes, which widened to the size of dinner plates as he noticed the camera crew. Hastily pushing Stewie back away from him, Brian wiped his mouth and glanced back and forth from Tom, to Diane, to the crew.

"Um ..." he said finally, looking at the camera. "...this ... isn't what it looks like?"

There was another pause, and then Tucker turned back to the camera. "Well, there you have it, folks," he said simply into the microphone, "there is a gay, pedophiliac dog loose on the streets of Quahog. We now go to Ollie Williams for the medical diagnosis. Ollie?"

"THAT DOG'S A SICKO!" shouted Ollie.

"Thanks, Ollie," said Tom. "We'll be right back with the _real_ Miss Spears, who is a much more welcome but only slightly less traumatic sight, right after this."

Not a moment too soon, the cameras shut off; for it was then that the entire family, as well as Jasper, Ricardo, Joe and the puppies, barreled down the hallway toward the closet where Brian and Stewie were still standing. Stewie also looked stunned; his hair was untidy and he kept glancing around at everyone, as if he couldn't believe all of this was happening.

"You'll never guess what we just saw on Britney's television," said Jasper, eyebrows raised as he crossed his arms, and Ricardo nodded from beside him.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, you _disgusting_ pervert?" yelled Lois, her glare at Brian murderous.

"You're _sick!_" agreed Peter, his hands on his hips. "You're even sicker than pedophiles! Oh, that's right, I forgot," he added, his eyes narrowing. "You _are_ one!"

"Brian, what do you think you're _doing_?" shouted Chris, who didn't sound angry, but rather unbelievably confused. His look mirrored those of the puppies behind him: They were all staring at Brian, blinking in a befuddled matter, not quite aware of the implications of all this.

"That was supposed to be _me_, Brian!" yelled Meg, her fists clenched. "Not Stewie, _me!_ He's just a _baby!_"

"I can't believe you, Brian!" Joe cried, pushing his wheelchair forward. "You're one of the _last_ people I expected to have arrested on a Michael Jackson charge!"

"No,_ no!_" shouted Brian, raising his paws defensively as he began backing away from the rest of the family. "No, it's _not_ what you all think! It's a mistake, a misunderstanding! Please!" he cried, his tone begging. "Please just give me a chance to explain!"

"There's nothing _to_ explain, Brian," stated Joe severely. "We all saw it. Stewie fell into your arms and _you_ kissed him!"

"Yeah, who knows how much farther you would have gone if the news crew hadn't busted in?" said Meg harshly; the fact that she had been replaced was definitely getting to her.

"He's a _baby_, Brian!" Lois shouted, pointing at Stewie. "I can't believe you_ used_ him for something like this!"

"But — no, NO, I didn't!" gasped Brian, still backing away; his eyes were glistening. "Please — please just let me explain—"

"Any chance you might have had with that was lost the moment your lips went anywhere _near_ Stewie's," Lois said angrily, bending down to pick up the baby in question.

"Yeah!" Peter agreed, coming to stand next to his wife and son protectively. "'Man's best friend' ... looks to me like he was more than just a friend!" he added, echoing Brian and Stewie's earlier comments to each other.

"Brian, I'm going to give you thirty seconds," said Joe lowly, as he slowly pushed his wheelchair forward. "Once those thirty seconds are up, then I am coming after you. I suggest you run. Now."

"Yeah, Brian! Go on, get off with your gross fantasies somewhere else!" called Meg. "Preferably with me!"

"Brian, I want you to leave," said Lois severely, as she hugged Stewie protectively, and Peter did the same to her. "None of us want to see you at the moment."

Jasper, Ricardo, and Chris — as well as the puppies — didn't say anything; rather, all of them simply gazed at Brian, as if they couldn't quite believe what he had just done. Their stares brought on a momentary silence, during which Brian stopped backing away for the briefest moment.

"Don't_ any_ of you believe me?" he said, his voice cracking; he was crying. "I _swear_ to all of you — t-this wasn't — wasn't what you think it was._ Please_," he begged again. "_Please_ believe me!"

"Twenty seconds," said Joe, looking at his watch.

Brian gazed at what used to be his family one last time ... then, slowly, he turned around, and began running. Faster and faster he went, picking up speed as he flew through the hospital corridors — down stairwells, around corners, through hallways — the world rushed by in a blur as Brian fought to keep his eyes from spilling over. He let out a strangled sob as he burst through the main lobby doors and out into the cold night, his feet carrying him through the city streets — and all the while, the voices of his family played over and over again in his head, taunting him, torturing him...

"_Go on, get off with your gross fantasies somewhere else!"_

"_You're SICK!"_

"_What do you think you're DOING?"_

"_He's just a baby!"_

"_What the hell is wrong with you, you disgusting pervert?"_

"_Pervert!"_

"_Pervert!"_

"_PERVERT!"_


	12. Discovery

The next night, Peter sat on the couch in front of the TV, a telephone receiver pressed to his ear. "Still no sign of him," Joe said on the other end, "but don't worry, Peter, we'll find Brian."

"Okay, Joe, but ... uh ... what exactly are you guys gonna do with him once you catch him?" Peter asked, semi-nervously.

"Nothing important, Peter, just hold him for questioning until we can figure out _why_ exactly he kissed your baby," said Joe, a menacing undertone to his voice. "Although it might be easier if we were to just throw him in jail. Judging by the looks of things, he'd love it in there," he added with a growl.

"I don't know, Joe," said Peter, as he pulled on his shirt collar. "Brian's been my best friend for years, and — well, it's just ... this doesn't seem _like_ him, you know?"

"We all think that, Peter," replied Joe solemnly, "we all think that. Oh, hang on, I have to go. We found some more dog tracks; they're either Brian's or the puppy who's humping the fire hydrant two feet away. All right, see you later."

Joe hung up the phone with a click, and Peter turned it off and set it on the couch with a sigh. "Well, at least one good thing came out of all this," he said to himself.

"What's that, Dad?" asked Chris, walking in from the kitchen.

Peter turned to him. "Oh, the hunt for Brian has made Joe forget all about arresting the two of us," he said. "He's completely dropped the charges."

"Wow, that's lucky!" said Chris happily, walking up the stairs now. "Almost as lucky as winning the lottery!"

* * *

"19..." read the announcer on the TV. "41 ... 78 ... 24 ... 83 ... 12." 

A woman watching the broadcast screamed and jumped into the air. "Number twelve! Number twelve!" she shouted. "I won! Oh, thank God, I won! I'm rich! I'm rich!"

"What's all the ruckus, Miss Streisand?" asked her butler, walking in from the other room. "You have plenty of money already, don't you?"

"Yes, but now I can _finally_ afford surgery for my nose!" said Barbara happily, rushing to the telephone and dialing eagerly. She read the paper in her hands over one more time, just to be sure, giggling with glee.

"Dr. Braff's office," came the voice of the receptionist.

"Tell that bastard to clear all his weekend appointments, baby, 'cause he's workin' overtime!" whooped Streisand.

* * *

Peter picked up the remote and turned on the TV, hoping to either find some news on Brian or some cheesy comedy show that could try to cheer him up. "Hmm," he said after a pause. "_Gilligan's Island_ just ain't doin' it tonight." 

It was at that moment that Stewie came downstairs, holding his hands to his face. He was sniffling, his eyes damp with tears. Without looking at Peter, Stewie climbed onto the couch, looking straight ahead, still sniffling.

Slowly Peter turned away from the TV to look at Stewie (there was nothing good on, anyway). Peter was very uncertain; Lois was much better at this sort of thing than he was. "Uhm ..." he said at length, "Stewie ... you okay there, buddy?"

Stewie's only response was his lip quivering for a moment; then he burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"Oh. Oh God, oh God," said Peter nervously, standing up off the couch. He held his hands out in front of him as if to protect himself from Stewie's crying. "Oh God, this isn't good. This isn't good at all —"

Fortunately, Lois had heard Stewie's cries from the kitchen, and she immediately ran over to the couch and scooped her baby up into her arms. "Oh, poor Stewie," she said sympathetically, patting his eyes with a washcloth to dry his tears. "Sssh," she said soothingly, as Stewie continued carrying on, "it's all right, it's all right." Slowly she rocked Stewie back and forth; his crying gradually quieted to infrequent hiccups. "Oh, poor baby," said Lois, "are you crying because of what Brian did to you?"

"Mommy, you were _mean_ to the nice doggy," cried Stewie; he was obviously playing up the act as much as possible. "I don't _like_ it when you're mean to him." He punched Lois's chest with his tiny little fists, tears still running down his face, before leaning against her and sobbing once more.

"Poor Stewie," Lois said again; apparently she hadn't heard him. "What you need right now is some rest..." She began to carry Stewie off; she had gotten halfway up the stairs before he suddenly started squirming in her arms. Wrestling himself free of her grasp, Stewie jumped down to the floor and turned to look up at Lois, his face full of rage now.

"Shut up! Just _shut up_, you ignorant bitch!" Stewie shouted, pointing a menacing finger up at her. "Don't you _dare_ think you can just come along and make my problems all better! It's because of you that half of my problems exist in the first place! You stay away from me, you _whore_, or so help me I'll make good all of the matricidal threats I've made over the years!"

And without a glance back he ran into his room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Lois staring after him, stunned.

* * *

In the kitchen, Jasper was helping Ricardo with the dishes. The seven puppies were seated around the kitchen table, each one drinking from their own milk bottle; as they all had opposable thumbs like their father, it was a comparatively easy task. Jasper and Ricardo, meanwhile, had barely said a word to anyone (or each other, but that was nothing unusual) since last night; instead they sat in silence, as Jasper washed and Ricardo dried. 

The atmosphere was made even more tense when Lois entered; wordlessly she joined the two of them at the sink, helping Jasper with the soap and water. The three of them worked like that for several moments before Lois finally said, "Stewie's ... very upset."

"I gathered," said Jasper quietly; he had heard every word the baby had said to Lois, though for some reason he wasn't sure that anyone else had.

"But the strange thing is, he's not upset at _Brian_, he's upset at _me_," said Lois, more to herself than Jasper and Ricardo. "He seems to think all of this is my fault."

Jasper paused, apparently trying to decide whether to voice what was on his mind. Finally he said, "Well ... maybe what he really thinks is that all of us were a little too quick to pass judgment."

"Jasper, the news crew walked in just as Brian swept Stewie into his arms," said Lois semi-exasperatedly, almost breaking a dish in her distraction. "How could we have misjudged that? He was making out with my baby!"

"Maybe he was," said Jasper, setting his dishes aside for now. "Or ... maybe your baby was making out with _him?_"

Lois stared at Jasper for a very, very long time. When she finally spoke again, she said slowly, "Jasper, that's ... I'm sorry, but that sounds ridiculous." She picked up another plate and began sponging it. "In fact, that's even more ridiculous than the time Peter thought that his merry-go-round horse was Seabiscuit."

* * *

"Go, 'Biscuit, go!" shouted Peter, leaning forward on the ceramic horse and eyeing the purple one beside them. "You can beat 'im, you're the underdog! You always triumph in the end, unless you're Gary Coleman, now go!" 

He leaned forward even more, but the merry-go-round's cycle had ended, and the horses slowly stopped circling. As the purple one beside Peter had been built to be slightly farther up on the track than his, it was apparent that Seabiscuit had lost.

"You_ idiot!_" shouted Peter, slapping his horse. "I told you, you have to look 'em in the eye! _That's_ how you get the motivation to win, you literal dumb ass!"

* * *

"Well, _fine_," said Jasper, putting his paws on his hips, "if you won't talk to him, Lois, then _I_ will. Because _some_one has to." 

Giving Ricardo a quick peck on the cheek, Jasper jumped down from his chair and walked out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Lois watched him go, almost tempted to call after him, but she gave a sigh and resumed working on the dishes with Ricardo.

Finally reaching Stewie's room, Jasper raised a fist and knocked. There was no response, so he hesitantly reached out and turned the handle. Pushing open the door, Jasper found that Stewie's room was shrouded in darkness; he had turned off all the lights, shut all the blinds, and was now sitting in the middle of the room, sniffling again and clutching Rupert close.

"Come on, little man..." said Jasper quietly, shutting the door behind him. "You can't stay up here forever, you know."

"I don't even know why I'm crying," said Stewie, a forced toughness to his voice as he set Rupert aside. "I don't miss him, you know. In fact, I loathe that flea-bitten, arrogant mutt. I'm glad to be shot of him."

"I'm sure you are," Jasper agreed, coming to kneel beside Stewie. "That must be why you responded so passionately when he kissed you."

"_Shut up!_" shouted Stewie suddenly, full of rage once again as he turned to yell at Jasper. "You're the worst offender of the whole sorry lot, you fudge-packing hypocrite!"

"_Me?_" cried Jasper, standing up and backing away. "My stars, what did _I_ do?"

"_You_ were the one telling him to go for it in the first place, you bastard!" shouted Stewie, poking Jasper in the chest. "I heard you! Don't try to say otherwise! You kept wanting to know if he would give me a chance, and when he wouldn't, you were crushed! And _then_ you have to go and side with everyone else and cast him out like yesterday's newspaper or Macaulay Culkin!"

Jasper was stunned. "W-what? You ... you listened in on our conversation?"

Stewie crossed his arms and glared silently at Jasper, forcing the latter to look away. That wasn't the real issue here, and they both knew it. Finally, Jasper said uncomfortably, "He ... kept reassuring me that ... that he wasn't like me..."

"Oh, so it's that you think he _lied_ to you, is that it?" Stewie asked angrily. "You're _mad_ at him because he kept denying he was _gay_, and you're thinking he wasn't respectful to you, or even _himself_, by doing so? Is that it? Hmmm?"

Jasper didn't respond, only looked uncertain; but this silence was all that Stewie needed to confirm his suspicions as true. "Well, for your information, Pink Lady," he said heatedly, "it just so happens that Brian _was_ telling the truth at the time. It was only after _my_ interference that he turned out to be a homosexual."

Stewie abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. He had revealed too much. Jasper knew the truth... and he was looking horrified. "You did _what_, little man?"

"I did nothing! I, I didn't say anything!" Stewie shouted innocently, waving his hands in front of him. He wondered if he could reach his baseball bat from here and knock the memory out of Jasper. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, yes, I think you do," replied Jasper, eyes narrowing; but before he could continue, there was a sudden clanging sound, and both of them looked over to Stewie's window. A rock had been thrown against it, and as they watched, there came another, and then a third.

Hastily Stewie ran over and opened the window, looking around. The outside air was chilly, and very breezy; so much that the baby almost didn't hear the weak call of, "...Stewie..."

"Brian?" said Stewie, alarmed, as he looked down. Brian was indeed there, leaning against the side of the house; Stewie couldn't see him very well, but it looked like he was having trouble holding himself up. He had one paw pressed against the wall, leaning on his arm, and was breathing very heavily.

"Hold on, Brian!" Stewie called back in a loud whisper, "we'll get you up here!" And he ran back over to his crib, jumping over the bars to pull out all of the sheets. "You!" he said to Jasper, "Help me! Now!" Jumping out of the crib again, Stewie passed a couple of the sheets to Jasper, who hastily set about tying them together. Stewie did the same, and soon they had made a long rope out of the bedsheets.

"If the situation wasn't so dire, this would be an incredibly romantic setup," said Stewie to Jasper before he ran back to the window and lowered the sheets down to the ground. "Brian! Grab onto this!"

There came a responsive tug on the sheets, and Stewie pulled; Jasper ran over to help, and the two of them wrestled with the rope. After several tense seconds, in which the sheets almost tore, Brian emerged, hanging on for dear life, his eyes closed. With one last final tug, Stewie and Jasper pulled Brian into the room, and he fell unceremoniously onto the floor.

Brian was a mess. His collar was torn and ripped; his fur was mussed, tangled and dirty; and he was bleeding in several places. He didn't open his eyes, even as Stewie and Jasper rushed over to him, and he was holding one of his fingers at an odd angle; it looked like it might be broken. His breathing was panting and heavy, coming in short gasps, and he had a pained expression. It hurt Stewie and Jasper just to look at him.

"Brian!" Stewie gasped, shaking him, but Brian still didn't open his eyes. "Brian, my God, what happened? Talk to me, man! Talk to me!"

Finally opening his eyes, Brian groaned and pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning against Jasper for support. "Everyone who sees me attacks me on sight," he grunted, nursing his bent finger. "All of them think I'm a dirty, pedophiliac monster who doesn't deserve to live ... do you think this is broken or just sprained?" he added, showing the finger to Jasper, before a coughing fit overcame him.

"I think it's broken, and _what?_" Jasper cried, holding Brian up. "What did they _do_ to you, Bee-ri?"

"Let's see," muttered Brian darkly, counting off on his good paw, "there was the finger, the knife to the stomach, the punch to the gut and head, the kick in the crotch, the attempt to rip off my collar, the attempt to shave me bald, and the general beatings and shouted obscenities."

Stewie stepped backward, utterly horrified. "They did all of _this_ to you?" he finally said, stunned.

"What are you so shocked about?" snapped Brian, now cradling an arm against his bleeding stomach. "You plan to do _ten_ times worse to Lois every _week_, you sick son of a bitch!"

"Y-yes, but that's _different_," said Stewie, stung by Brian's bitterness towards him. "I _loathe_ her, Brian. And I'd be foolish to say that I feel the same way towards you as I do her—"

"Oh, cut the smoke and mirrors already, we both already know that you're_ in love_ with him," said Jasper, as he rolled his eyes and batted a paw. "Al_though_," he added, now kneeling next to Brian and checking his bloody arm, "I must say, this seems like a strange way to treat someone whom you supposedly love."

The atmosphere in the room couldn't have been any colder if the thermostat had just dropped twenty degrees. Forced into an awkward silence by Jasper's comment, there was nothing Stewie could do save for twiddle his thumbs nervously as he watched Jasper examine Brian's wounds. Finally he said, "Um ... is there anything that I can do to assist the two of you?"

"Yeah," said Brian angrily, standing up. "You can get the hell away from me and never talk to me ever again." Wincing, he took several awkward steps forward; he was quite unsteady on his feet.

"You need bandages ... and some gauze and a brace..." Jasper muttered worriedly from beside him. "We should get you to a hospital, or at least find you a first aid kit..."

"I can't go down there!" Brian shouted, gesturing toward the stairwell. "What do you think they'll do? They won't even listen to me, they'll just yell at me to get out!"

"All right, all right, I'll go down and look for one myself," said Jasper, obviously attempting to sound soothing. "Until then, stay up here and hide if anyone comes by, okay?" He gave Brian's good paw a gentle squeeze and was gone, shutting the door behind him with a firm click.

There was a long, intense, unbearable silence. Brian stared resolutely at the door, refusing to turn around, and Stewie stared at the back of Brian's head, willing him to start talking. When nothing happened, Stewie finally felt like he had to say something himself. "Um ... well. You're ... you're not exactly in the best condition, are you, Brian?"

"No, Stewie," said Brian, without looking at him, "I'm not."

"Would ... would it mean anything, perhaps, if I apologized?" said Stewie hesitantly, approaching Brian.

"No, Stewie," said Brian, his tone still ice-cold, "it wouldn't."


	13. Heightened Tension

Meanwhile, in the living room, Peter was again flipping through various television channels, trying to find something distracting. In front of him, Jasper descended the staircase and walked off to the kitchen in search of the first aid kit, sweating nervously; fortunately, Peter didn't really notice him.

"We now return to _The Lion King_, on Disney Channel," came the voice of the TV announcer. On-screen, three hyenas laughed hysterically amongst themselves, guffawing over their latest plan to overthrow the king of the Pride Lands.

"Hey," one of them said suddenly, and they stopped. "Ever wonder why all three of us are voiced by minority actors?"

"Yeah, whazzup with that?" said the other, raising his eyebrows. "I'd say Disney has some serious racial problems they need to straighten out. Ed?"

The third hyena nodded with a dumb smile, as he always did.

"Oh, you fools," came the deep voice of Scar, and the three hyenas looked up with fear. "You always read too much into things."

"Said the guy who's voiced by a Caucasian," muttered the first hyena under her breath.

Peter sighed and clicked the TV off once again, just in time for his cell phone to go off. Pulling it out and flipping it open, Peter pressed it to his ear and said, "Yello?"

"Peter, it's Joe," came the voice on the other end. "I've got good news for you: We've finally managed to track Brian's trail."

"Oh," said Peter, trying to sound enthusiastic (even though his mind continued to have second thoughts about Brian). "Well, that's great, Joe!"

"The bad news is the trail leads directly to your house," Joe finished solemnly. "Open up, Peter."

Peter complied, shutting his cell phone off and heading for the front door. When he opened it, however, he was stunned: There was an entire police squadron out front, complete with three cars, countless flashing sirens and about forty members of the force. At the front of this large ensemble was Joe, who was barking orders to the other officers through a megaphone. "Form one line, no pushing!" he was saying, before turning around and spotting Peter.

"Ah, there you are," he said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door. Behind Peter, Lois, Chris, Meg and Ricardo all came to look at what was going on. "Oh my God, Joe, what's happening?" exclaimed Lois, pressing her hands to her face.

"We're here to assist in the capture of a dangerous fugitive, that's what happening," said Joe resolutely. His jaw was clenched.

"Wait, wait, wait, whoa, hold on there," said Peter, raising his hands. "Joe, Brian's not a dangerous fugitive! I mean, come on, he did one semi-bad thing and now suddenly the whole world's after him?"

"Peter, he made out with your son," Joe replied, his tone even. "If I were you, I'd say that that's more than a _semi-bad_ thing. In fact, it's worse than the makeout scene with Luke and Leia from _Star Wars_."

* * *

"That was so wrong," gasped Carrie Fisher, as she lay sweating in the afterglow, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. 

"Yes, but since nobody saw it, we shouldn't have to worry," said Mark Hamill soothingly from beside her, patting her hair.

It was at that precise moment that the hotel room wall fell away, revealing that it was just a cardboard prop; behind it, the entire Star Wars film crew had gathered, and were cheering the two of them on ecstatically. George Lucas walked over to the camera and popped the tape out, grinning.

"And_ that's_ going in the Director's Cut!" he said happily, pocketing the tape.

* * *

Back in Stewie's bedroom, Jasper and Brian observed the scene from above, finding the sight of some forty-odd police officers none too reassuring. Brian bit his lip nervously; what had they gotten themselves into now? 

Turning away from the window, Jasper finished wrapping the bandages around Brian's finger and cut the tape. "There you go," he said, patting the finger gingerly, and Brian tested it. It looked set, for now, but anything major and he was screwed. "Thanks, Jasper," he said gratefully, but his smile soon turned to a worried look as he again looked out the window. "What are we going to _do_?" he said, gesturing toward the scene below.

It was at that moment that Joe's blaring voice reached their ears, and Brian and Jasper flinched. "Brian, we know you're in there," he called through the megaphone. "Come out, now, or you'll be considered a public enemy, which will give us the authority to open fire!"

"Great," muttered Brian, glancing away. "Like _that's_ supposed to motivate me?"

"Don't listen to them, Brian!" shouted Stewie resolutely from his crib. He was inside, tossing any pillows and stuffed animals away as he looked for something. "Where is it, where is it, where is it..."

"Where's_ what_, little man?" asked Jasper suspiciously. "Maybe you should stop looking and actually own up... though I doubt that anyone would believe him," he added, as an afterthought.

"Aha! Found it!" said Stewie in triumph; he had ignored Jasper completely. "Brian, catch!" He tossed something large and black to Brian, who caught it on instinct. "What's this?" he asked, looking down.

It was only then that he noticed that it was a very large gun — the one Stewie usually kept stored under his pillow. Dropping it automatically, Brian gasped, "Stewie, what the hell? I'm not using this."

"You'll have to if we want to escape from this mess!" said Stewie, now darting around his room and looking for other concealed weapons. "I just need two more, and then we'll be off! Best be in shape, Brian. We'll have to run faster than Shia LaBeouf did when he was filming _Transformers_."

* * *

"Okay, gang," said Michael Bay, the director, cheerfully, "in this scene, Scorponok bursts out from the sand and attacks everybody in sight. We're detonating primer cord under the sand, which means the explosions will be in very close proximity and very dangerous. That's why the camera's in a bulletproof glass box." 

He gestured toward the video camera, which had indeed been outfitted with such a device.

"However,_ you_ guys will have to run and keep running no matter what happens, or else you could be seriously injured or even killed," Bay continued in that same maddeningly cheerful tone. "It's just our little way of making sure the panic captured on your faces is one hundred percent genuine!"

"Explain to me again why I agreed to do all my own stunts?" Shia muttered to his agent.

* * *

"I have a better idea, cousin," said Jasper suddenly; his eyes had lit up. "Do you have an extra collar somewhere?" 

Brian blinked. "Um ... sure," he said, but before he could sneak to the bedroom to look for one, Stewie had pulled one out from his crib and tossed it to Jasper without a second thought, going back to looking for another gun.

"What — Stewie, you've been stealing my stuff?" said Brian, glaring at the baby.

"Oh, come on, Brian, I'm _infatuated_ with you," said Stewie, rolling his eyes; he hadn't stopped the search. "It's only natural that I be prone to lifting your objects and keeping them as souvenirs."

"Quagmire's taught you entirely too well," muttered Brian, but was spared from saying anything more by Jasper. He had grabbed Brian's collar and now rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click. A brief moment passed, then the door opened again and Jasper reemerged — and he had transformed his look completely.

Brian and Stewie were stunned. Jasper had changed out of his pink tank top and short shorts into Brian's collar, and combed out his hairdo into a flat line. The result of all this was that he now looked exactly like his cousin. In fact, for all intents and purposes, he_ was_ Brian — save for the ring in his ear.

"My God, you're his spitting image!" said Stewie, as Jasper tossed his own outfit aside. "But what do you plan on doing with this?"

"Isn't it obvious, little man?" laughed Jasper, batting his paw; and Brian was unnerved to see himself doing such a thing. "I'm their distraction. I'll go out front and lure them away, and this'll give you guys plenty of time to escape. Sound good?"

Brian rubbed the back of his neck. "It sounds like the best we can hope for," he finally acknowledged. "But, Jasper ... are you sure you're willing to do this? I mean, you're a father now ... you've got a bunch of puppies to look after..."

"Hey, cousin, I'll be fine," said Jasper reassuringly, coming over to grasp Brian's paws in his own. "I won't be gone more than a moment, and besides, I haven't forgotten how much you did for me. It's because of you that I was able to get married in the first place, don't you remember? It's only right that I return the favor."

"Speaking of which," said Stewie, looking out the window, "look who's tagged along!"

Brian and Jasper came to the window, looking in the direction Stewie was pointing: There, standing beside Joe, was a very familiar-looking girl, surveying the scene around her with crossed arms and wearing an expression of great dislike.

"My God, it's that Republican girl who brainwashed Chris!" Brian gasped, backing away from the window. "What the hell's _she_ doing here?"

"Obviously she's out to make sure the criminal she so dislikes is apprehended," said Stewie, utterly disgusted. "She is quite dedicated to her cause, you understand."

"Well, sounds like we have to get moving, then," said Jasper with concern, and he turned to Brian. "Bee-ri, do you have your car keys?"

Brian nodded, pulling them out and tossing them to Jasper; the latter caught them with a flourish. "I won't be gone long," he said with a smile. "And I'll try to take care of the Prius."

"Do whatever you need to do," said Brian, before smiling also. "Thanks, Jasper."

"No prob', cousin," said Jasper, and he gave a little salute before rushing out of Stewie's room towards the downstairs area.

"Think he'll be okay?" asked Brian, staring after him.

"Oh, he'll be fine," said Stewie with a shrug. "Now come on, 'Bee-ri', while your cousin's doing the distracting we're supposed to be getting away. We'll sneak out back."

He passed Brian the gun again; Brian hesitated, but took it without comment, though privately thinking that he'd never have the motivation — or guts — to use it. "Ready, then?" asked Stewie; when Brian nodded, he said, "In that case, let's be off."

"God," said Brian to himself as he and Stewie began their trek downstairs, "this is more risky than siding with the WGA."

* * *

_Cutaway unavailable due to Writers__'__ Strike_


	14. Fight!

In front of the house, Joe had led the family out on the front porch to talk about the current situation. Ricardo slowly stepped away from the rest of them and went back to the kitchen to check on the pups, shutting the front door firmly behind him.

"Joe," Lois began, her talk with Jasper still fresh in her mind, "now, I know I made it obvious that I didn't like what Brian had done, but ... I don't know. I think you guys should think this through."

"Yeah, I mean, c'mon," added Peter. "You're after _one_ guy and you bring a whole bunch of your friends over?" He gestured to the squadron gathered in front of them. "That's like giving Mary-Kate Olsen a bucket full of diet pills. It's annoying, off-color and completely unnecessary."

"Peter, all we wanted to do was make sure Brian didn't escape from us," said Joe evenly. "His trail leads to your house and if you guys would just step out of the way, we can infiltrate it and capture him."

"I don't know what you're talking about; _I_ haven't seen Brian anywhere in there," said Chris dully. "Neither has the evil monkey in my closet." He leaned in close to whisper in Joe's ear. "And he sees _everything_."

Chris glanced up to his bedroom window, where the evil monkey had emerged, and it pointed at him with one hand while holding binoculars to its eyes with the other. Chris gulped and tried to look away.

"Well, then," said Joe patiently, "he must have managed to _sneak_ in. Now, Peter, if you would please just let us inside your house."

"Do you have a search warrant?" asked Peter, crossing his arms.

Before Joe got a chance to reply (and most likely lose his temper), however, the garage door suddenly opened, and Brian's Prius zipped out, scattering the policemen in the driveway. The little car pulled into Spooner Street, stopping briefly; and its driver rolled down the window.

"Hey there, Fuzz Boys!" laughed Jasper (who looked like Brian) from the front seat. He was pitching his voice lower in an attempt to sound more like his cousin. "You want me so bad, do you? Well, then come and _get_ me already!"

And he stepped on the gas, giving a sideways grin at the shocked expressions of the family, and his car zoomed off. Behind him, amidst Joe's shouts of "AFTER HIM! GO! GO!", six of the cops jumped into the three police cars, turning on their lights and sirens and racing after the Prius. Soon the screech of their tires faded off into the distance, leaving Peter, Lois, Chris and Meg staring after them.

"The rest of you, line up along the street in case he comes back," Joe instructed, pushing his wheelchair down along the line, and the men hastened to obey. "Defend the parameter! Move it, move it!"

"You, uh, won't be aiming to kill, will you, Joe?" said Peter nervously; he was sweating.

"Don't worry, Peter, all of the guns are filled with a simple mild sedative," replied Joe, turning back to his friend.

"Oh-ho-HO, no," growled Lois unexpectedly, shoving Peter out of the way and coming to stand right in front of Joe. "The last time somebody used that line, I wound up with enough tranquilizer in my system to bring down a mammoth. Something like that could _kill_ Brian, and as mad as I am at him right now, I do _not_ want that happening to him."

"If he's knocked out, can I, uh, just bring him up to my room for a while?" piped up Meg, her tone semi-hopeful.

* * *

Brian and Stewie had made it down the staircase without incident; they could hear the family arguing with Joe through the front door. Brian felt a pang of longing as he listened to them. However upset with him they may be, they _were_ his family after all; they were all that he had, apart from Stewie. What if they never patched things up? Where would he go, what would he do?

"Dog, what are you daydreaming about?" said Stewie sharply, glancing behind him at Brian. "We're supposed to be escaping, remember? Follow me if you wish to keep your life in your own hands."

Brian shook his head and continued on. Stewie opened the kitchen door (without knocking) and went in, then suddenly gasped and dropped his weapon. Brian, following him, did the same: They had counted on the entire family being outside with Joe. What they _hadn't_ counted on, and what they were seeing now, was Ricardo, still with the seven puppies.

He stared at them for a moment, and he and Brian locked gazes. The dog's eyes were pleading: _Please don't rat us out ... please ... please just let us go..._ Then, as if he understood, Ricardo nodded, and then inclined his head toward the back door, as if saying, "Go, while you still can."

Stewie complied, picking up his gun again and heading for the door. The puppies watched him and Brian go, their gazes curious; it was plain that they still didn't understand what was going on, but instead simply wondering why the dog that looked like their father had to leave all of a sudden. Brian watched them, then whispered "Thank you" to Ricardo before shutting the door behind him.

"Well," Stewie said conversationally, glancing back at Brian again, "that was close."

Brian didn't reply, only followed silently behind Stewie, his mind elsewhere. Ricardo hadn't stopped them ... Ricardo seemed to understand. Brian frowned. Was he right in thinking that, or simply very foolish in assuming?

"Oh,_ come on_, man, we're not out of this yet," said Stewie, exasperated. "Who was it that said, 'A distracted fighter is a dead fighter'? In any case, that situation applies at this particular moment. Now buck up and focus, now, or so help me I'll _make_ you focus — the only way I know how. On _me_." He stopped walking for a moment to grin seductively at Brian and run his tongue over his lips. It could not be more obvious what he meant.

Stewie was, however, more right than he knew. He and Brian _weren't_ out of this yet, and weren't going to be for awhile. Because there was a figure watching them, hiding on a branch in one of the backyard trees. A very familiar, sinister-looking figure...

* * *

Jasper shifted gears and pressed down further on the gas. Brian's Prius careened through the streets of Quahog, cutting through red lights and dodging other cars. Behind him, the three police cars increased their speeds; the sound of their sirens was much, much too close for comfort and getting closer. Jasper glanced in the rearview mirror briefly and bit his lip in nervousness: the cops were gaining.

He hung a sharp right, steering frantically, and the car skidded, rising up on two wheels, before crashing back down with a thud and a harsh bounce. Its tires squealed in protest, but Jasper paid it no mind and blasted down the street. Behind him, the cops also tried to turn the corner, but were too close to each other; one smashed into the side of the other and the third rear-ended the last. The police cars backed up, separating themselves, and continued on regardless.

"Stop, or we'll shoot!" came the voice of the policeman driving the first vehicle; Jasper looked back briefly, but continued. "And not with those sissy tranquilizers either!" added the cop, "We have real bullets! Don't be thinking you can go all _Die Hard_ on us!"

Jasper ignored the police cars, instead concentrating on the road. He had managed to maneuver the car straight into the Quahog town square. The traffic had increased, but so did the speed of the Prius; Jasper zipped through openings and dodged trucks and Hummers, hoping to lose the cops. On the sidewalks beside the car, people screamed and fled. One such person was the mayor, Adam West.

"Well, would you look at that," he said regally, watching the Prius zip through the streets with the three police cars in hot pursuit. "It's a game of car tag! My, but they're having fun!"

He ran up to a random BMW parked on the street (which Jasper had accidentally dented on the right side) and pressed a finger to its side. "Tag, Mr. BMW! You, sir, are it!"

Jasper glanced in the rearview mirror again, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. He still hadn't managed to lose the cops; in fact, they were gaining even more. He hung a sharp left this time, but the policemen had picked up on his tricks and managed not to ram their cars into each other, instead skidding slightly on the road before maneuvering back on course and tearing after the Prius.

Jasper hit a speed bump, and the car bounced severely; one of the hubcaps fell off and rolled along the road, stopping only when it was run over by the first of the pursuing police vehicles. The squad car rammed its front bumper into the back of the Prius, and the vehicle gave a frightening lurch forward; Jasper, panicked, revved the engine and forced the gas pedal down so far that it squeaked and groaned against the floor.

100 — 110 — 120 — the speedometer was climbing up, up, up, but still the cops remained in hot pursuit. Knowing now that trying to make a turn would in all likelihood flip the vehicle over, Jasper instead pounded on the horn, blaring it full-blast, and careened down the main street of the Quahog square in a single, straight line. Cars hastened to get out of his way as he zipped and lurched through any and every opening available. But it was no use — behind him, still, the cops persisted.

And the chase was about to come to a sudden and abrupt end: As Jasper continued down the street, it branched off and eventually took him out of the town square, at which point there was a simple sign: DEAD END. Behind it was a brick wall, belonging to none other than the Pawtucket Brewery.

"Oh, fudge!" Jasper said out loud.

The yellow sign was approaching much, much too rapidly, and he saw no other option: undoing his seat belt, Jasper quickly opened the driver's side door and made a jump for it. He landed hard, rolling himself into a protective ball, and came to rest on the sidewalk; behind him, the Prius continued on its way, the police cars still in pursuit, until it smashed into the sign, and the brick wall, with an earsplitting BANG.

Unable to stop in time, each of the three cop cars followed suit. There was another large BANG, and then another; and Jasper fled, taking cover behind another building nearby. He peeked out from around the corner just in time to see the third cop car crash into the pile — and then all four vehicles exploded.

A huge fireball rose from the street, blowing a hole in the side of the Brewery and enveloping what remained of the four cars in an instant. Jasper felt the heat even from a distance, and for a moment his whole world was a bright, bright glow of orange and red. Then the fireball subsided, leaving behind nothing save for a few burning strips of metal and rubber — and all six cops.

"Oh my God, did we all randomly decide to wear our fireproof uniforms today?" said one, looking at the other five.

"That is _so weird!_" said another with a large grin; then he noticed the hole in the brewery wall.

"Hey, everybody, look!" the cops shouted to the townspeople, who had gathered around the wreckage. "Free beer!"

Behind the building some distance away, Jasper breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. This would give him plenty of time to get away.

* * *

"Have you even thought about where we're going to go, assuming we even get the hell away from here?" asked Brian harshly, as Stewie peered around the corner of the house. Many of the cops were still there, but Jasper had managed to distract them sufficiently, and they were all spread out along the street, awaiting the return of the Prius.

"You needn't worry, Brian, I have it all covered," said Stewie, waving a hand behind him without looking at the dog. "Rupert and I managed to set up a little spot not too far from here."

"It wouldn't be in West Quahog, by any chance, would it?" asked Brian.

"As a matter of fact, it is," replied Stewie, finally turning to look at Brian. "And what's the matter with that? You know how Rupert is, after all; it's only natural he'd set up a place there."

"Yeah, him and you as well," Brian muttered. "And now me, apparently."

"That's the spirit," said Stewie with a malicious grin. "Now, we're going to have to —"

"Hello, Stewart."

Stewie gasped, and Brian whirled around. Standing in front of them, and holding a gun remarkably similar to The Device that Stewie was always carrying, was none other than —

"_Bertram?_" Stewie gasped.

"Who the hell is Bertram?" asked Brian nervously, glancing from Stewie to the other baby.

"_I_," announced Bertram self-importantly, "am Stewie's half-brother and his one true archrival. We were even friends at one point, both determined to kill that tyrannical ruler of a woman ... but fate had other ideas, it seems."

"Oh, spare the theatrics and put the gun down, Bertram, you're not fooling anybody," said Stewie, raising his own weapon. "Or have you not realized you're outnumbered?"

"You don't have the _guts_," sneered Bertram, though he was apparently talking more to Brian, and not Stewie. "And who says I want to shoot anybody?" he added with a shrug. "I just came by to tell my older half-brother exactly what I think of his public display of affection. It's caused quite the controversy, it seems." He stopped talking for a minute to giggle uncontrollably, clutching his sides; finally he straightened up again and wiped his eyes. "_I,_ however, found it hil_ar_ious, Stewart. Absolutely hil_ar_ious."

"Oh, did you now?" said Stewie, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Certainly!" replied Bertram. He was grinning from ear to ear. "And also entirely, completely expected." He chuckled again. "Stewart, you do not disappoint. Judging by Quahog's reaction, you managed to cook up the _perfect_ scandal."

"Well, I'm not sorry!" Stewie shot back, and he came to stand in front of Brian protectively. "I let my feelings be known and if I have to live with the consequences, so be it!"

"_I'm_ sorry," Brian muttered from behind him.

"You know, Stewart, ever since you beat me in the battle for supremacy, I've been looking for a means to have my revenge," said Bertram conversationally, as he glanced back at Brian. "And it looks like I've just found it!"

"Harm one hair on his body and I will blow your fucking head off," Stewie replied calmly, cocking his gun and putting it to the side of Bertram's head.

"Oh, will you?" smirked Bertram, and he pulled out a walkie-talkie, waving it in front of him. "This is a little device which I swiped from the police out front," he grinned, "and I'm about ready to push the button and call our little friends out there to the backyard. Let them know where the _real_ object of your affections is." He glanced toward Brian. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"

"I'm Brian," the dog growled; he had suddenly remembered something. "And I know who you are; you're that kid Stewie was fighting with on the playground. What's your problem with him? This doesn't involve you, so let us go."

"I'm sorry, _Brian_," replied Bertram, his finger straying to the "talk" button on the radio, "but anything that involves my half-brother is something I feel the need to be a part of. So sorry you don't feel the same way, Stewart."

And without warning he lashed out and punched the gun out of Stewie's hands; it flew through the air and sailed over the fence into Quagmire's yard, where it was sure to be found and used for some sort of sexual act. Stewie whipped his head around to look at Brian, his jaw clenched.

"Run, Brian! Run!" he shouted, then turned back to Bertram and pulled out a sword. Bertram threw the walkie-talkie aside (for now) and did the same, and the two began dueling.

"What —" said Brian, backing away, "Stewie, don't you —"

"This isn't your battle, Brian!" shouted Stewie as he dueled. "Get away from here, I'll catch up with you!"

"The only way you'll manage to do that is if the both of you are in Purgatory!" Bertram shot back, and he pulled out a ninja star and flung it at Brian's head. Brian had no choice: He dodged the ninja star, tightened his grip on the gun in his hands, and ran for his life.

* * *

"Dammit, people, what the hell is taking so long?" Joe shouted into his walkie-talkie.

Presently the channel crackled to life; on the other end were six cops, all of them very happy and very drunk. "You'ssh gots to come seeeee this, Officer Swaaaaaansssson," came a voice over the line. "Therrrrre'sh free beer for eeeeeeeveryyyoneee." The man hiccuped, then there was a large THUD: He had passed out.

"Oop, looks like Bob was the first one to hit the sack," came another voice on the line, "and you know what that means!"

"All right," said a third cop, and the sound of a pair of pants unzipping was heard. "But I'm keepin' my eyes closed."

"'Cause, you know, that's not in bad taste or anything," said another cop, and Joe shut off the radio in disgust. "Dammit," he cursed, "we've lost the trail."

"Dad, what happened to Brian?" Chris asked with a glance down the street. "What if he never comes back?"

"Oh, he'll come back, Chris; I still have his bone," Peter said, and he did indeed pull a bone out of his pocket. "Man, we've had some good times with this thing."

* * *

"Whatcha got there, Brian?" Peter asked with a gleeful grin, watching Brian nibble on the bone as he sat next to the couch.

"Peter, you know what this is," said Brian, showing him the bone.

"What is it, Brian?" Peter giggled. "Go on, tell me."

"Peter, I'm not gonna —" Brian started.

"Go on!" said Peter, elbowing him playfully.

Brian sighed. "I have a bone—"

"—ER!" Peter shouted, waving his arms around and dancing in circles. "You have a boner!! Hey, everybody!" he shouted, pointing at the exasperated dog, "Brian just said he has a boner! Ahahahahahah!!"

* * *

Brian lowered himself down the fence and let go, landing in Quagmire's yard, while on the other side Bertram and Stewie continued their epic duel. Presently Brian spotted Stewie's gun and picked it up, storing it safely away to give back to him. He then went back to the fence and pressed an ear against it, listening to the ongoing battle.

Their swords clashing again and again, Bertram and Stewie circled around the backyard, dodging the lethal blades and punching at each other (and missing) with their free hands. Stewie clashed his sword against Bertram's, and the latter backed him up against a tree; but Stewie thrust the sword forward, driving Bertram back; then he turned around and ran, running up the tree and doing a backflip, landing behind Bertram. He immediately raised his sword and thrust it at Bertram's back, but the other baby whirled around and diverted the blow, and the two of them continued their sword-clashing.

Around and around the backyard they went, never tiring or stopping, doing all sorts of things to try and outwit the other, but they were too evenly matched. Brian, watching this through a knothole in the fence, realized that such a fight could go on forever unless someone intervened. The problem was, he was the only one who could.

And yet ... he couldn't help but feel a bit ... cowardly. _Look at yourself_, he thought, _you've got two guns in your paws and yet you can't face a homicidal baby? You'd better wise up and get in there, or else you'll be worse off than Frankie Muniz after _Malcom in the Middle_ went off the air._

* * *

Muniz stood in the middle of the set, as around him the cast and crew began breaking it down, dismantling the last remnants of the popular sitcom. Frankie just stood there, staring straight ahead, and remained like that for some time until at last a crew member approached him.

"Frankie, uh ... you all right, there?" the guy asked.

"What do I do now?" Muniz said, confused.

* * *

Stewie brought his sword up and deflected another of Bertram's blows, his eyes straying to the spot under the tree where Bertram had cast aside the radio. If _he_ could get to it first, then maybe they could get out of this ... Stewie gave a battle cry and jumped, slashing his sword downward; but Bertram raises his up and clashed it against Stewie's, falling backward and rolling over. Without a second to pause the two of them sprang back to their feet and continued; only this time Stewie was circling backward, aiming for the radio.

"You never told me you had any objects of affection," said Bertram coolly as they dueled, and he kicked at Stewie, who dodged it. "What's next? An infatuation with that _Snoopy_ person?"

"Hey, he is a _handsome_ fellow," Stewie countered, and he threw a punch, which Bertram blocked. "And why should it matter to you? I'd have thought you'd have been more understanding —" he paused to kick his way out of the Sleeper Grip that Bertram had attempted to grasp him in, "—given the household which you come from."

"Oh, but anything that makes my half-brother happy can't be a good thing," Bertram replied, but he was stopped from saying anything more when Stewie suddenly gave another battle cry, using his sword to push Bertram's out of the way as he lunged forward. Stewie shoved Bertram as hard as he could, and the other baby fell backward; without hesitating, Stewie turned and dove for the radio desperately.

"I don't think so!" called Bertram, sitting up, and he raised his sword to throw it at Stewie, but suddenly there came a loud BANG, and the sword was shot out of Bertram's hand, to the baby's shock and fear.

Brian had climbed back over the fence and was aiming both guns at Bertram; the nozzle of one of them was smoking. He'd turned his collar into a red bandana, which he had tied around his head; and in his mouth was a stalk of grass, like a cowboy's cigarette. He spat it out and slowly advanced on Bertram, never lowering the guns.

"Get the _hell_ away from my _boyfriend_," he growled.


	15. A Fatal Wound

"Sir, we've got something in our sights," a police officer said to Joe.

Jasper, rubbing his paws together nervously, was approaching Spooner Street. It was a bit of an irony that he had led six policemen on a chase through Quahog only to return here, but he hadn't yet heard from Brian, which could only mean that they weren't safe yet. He had to keep distracting Joe and the other cops — and it was for that reason that he now approached the police line, his paws held above his head.

"Don't shoot!" he called, in Brian's voice. "I'm unarmed!"

"There he is!" cried the Republican girl, coming to stand next to Joe and gesturing toward Jasper wildly. "Get him!"

"Alyssa!" Chris shouted in shock, and pushed his family out of the way to stalk toward her, his gaze murderous. "I never did get to touch your boobs!" he yelled, pointing a finger at her.

"Chris, we've got more important matters to worry about right now," Alyssa responded calmly. Behind her, Joe made a gesture toward several of the cops and four of them rushed toward Jasper, grabbing him and pulling him forward. They threw him onto the grass and forced his paws together, snapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't hurt him!" Peter cried, stepping forward.

"Brian, you're under arrest for suspected child molestation," Joe stated, and he wheeled himself up in front of Jasper, who stood up painfully.

Chris and Meg gasped, and even Lois muttered in shock, "Child molestation?"

"Hey, hey, hey, Joe, c'mon! What is this?" Peter said in anger, and he stepped between Jasper and Joe, his hands spread out protectively. "Okay, so yeah. Brian kissed Stewie. It's gross. We've established that. But that _doesn't_ mean that he did ... y'know ... _other stuff_ to him, does it?"

"You never know, Peter," replied Joe evenly, "you never know. Which is why we're going to be holding him for questioning. We need to find out exactly what went on in that closet, and in more ways than one."

"Nothing went on!" Jasper spoke up from his place behind Peter. "All right, yes, I kissed him. But that's _all that happened!_ I can't believe you're accusing us of anything else; what happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"Us?" Alyssa said lowly, and she approached Jasper, her fists clenched. "So there's an 'us' now, is that it? You and him? Together?"

Jasper bit his lip uncomfortably; he certainly knew Stewie's opinion on the matter (a solid, resounding "yes"), but he wasn't too sure about Brian's. One thing was for certain — he hadn't seemed too happy with Stewie's attempted apology ... "No," he muttered lowly. "Not anymore."

"There, you see, Joe?" Peter said, his hands on his hips. "Brian's changed his mind. He's reformed. You can take the handcuffs off of him now."

"Of course that's what he's _saying_ to you, Peter, but what is he really _thinking_?" Joe responded. "I've seen every trick in the book. I can tell when a suspect is lying."

"I'm not lying!" Jasper lied.

"Yeah, Joe," piped up Chris, though he was still glaring at Alyssa, "Brian and Stewie may have had some other reason for kissing. Maybe they were playing a game or something."

"I'm sorry, Chris, but I don't think that's too likely," replied Joe. "In fact, it's about as likely as the Cubs winning the world series."

* * *

The Cubs baseball team sat in the locker room, dejected after yet another crushing loss. None of them said anything; they simply toweled off and changed out of their uniforms, not looking at one another, until finally one of them turned to glare at his teammates. When he spoke, his voice was accusing. 

"Why do they _always_ pick on _us?_" he grumbled.

* * *

"Yeah, and you want to know what _I_ think?" Peter interrupted, crossing his arms. "I think you, Joe, are a big fat homophobe. _You_ should learn some tolerance." 

"Homosexuality is _not_ the issue here!" Joe shouted back, but there was a definite edge to his voice; he was losing his temper. "The issue is whether _Brian_, a friend that you and I have known for years, has all this time been a closet pedophile preying on those closest to you! Hell, he could have even gone after _my_ son!"

There was an intense, awkward, extremely uncomfortable silence, during which Joe seemed to realize something. "My God," he muttered, "my son. I haven't seen my son for ... for awhile ... come to think of it, I don't think anybody has ... oh, Jesus, my son is missing!" He turned to the crowd and called out to them, panicked. "Has anybody seen my son? Where the hell is he?!"

Jasper took advantage of this momentary distraction, approaching the rest of the family. Peter followed, and put a hand on his shoulder. Jasper shifted awkwardly; the handcuffs behind his back had a painful grip on his wrists. He stopped, sighed, then looked up at Peter, Chris, Meg and Lois.

"I'm sorry, you guys," he said, as he knew Brian was. "Brian didn't — I mean ... I didn't intend for ... for any of this to happen. I hope you can forgive me eventually." He lowered his eyes and added in a low voice, "If we ever manage to see each other again."

"Aw, Brian, that's okay," said Chris, bending down and hugging Jasper. "I forgive you. Do _you_ forgive him, Meg?" he added lowly, looking up at his sister. It could not be plainer that he was turning this into a competition.

"Well, of course _I_ do!" Meg shot back at Chris. "How am I supposed to stay mad at him? I still lo—," she caught herself, "I ... really like him. 'Cause, you know, he _is_ important to the family."

Both Chris and Meg looked up at Lois, who looked very unsure of herself. "I ... well ..." she paused, "I think ... I'm ready to forgive you, Brian. But we'll have to see how all of this has affected Stewie, first. After all, it's him that had to —" She stopped, looking around the scene. "Stewie?" Lois was starting to grow nervous. "_Stewie_? Oh, my God, where did he go? Oh, I'm the worst mother in the world!" she shouted, clutching her head in her hands. "Stewie? _Stewie!_"

"Aw, I forgive you too, Brian," said Peter, totally oblivious, and he patted Jasper on the back. "But, uh, I have a question." He pointed at Jasper's ear. "When did you get an earring?"

* * *

Stewie leaped on the shocked Bertram and pinned him to the ground, holding his sword above his head. "Give me a reason," he growled, "and I swear I'll do it." 

"Oh, enough with the clichés, already," said Bertram, rolling his eyes. "What do you want, Stewart?"

"We want some answers," Brian replied, as he tossed Stewie his gun. His deadly gaze never left Bertram's eyes. "Why did you come here, how did you find us, and is anyone else following?"

"I came here of my own accord," Bertram replied simply. "Nobody sent me. Once they caught the two of you making out for the camera — with great comedic effect, I might add — it was a simple task for me to find the hospital in which you were residing and steal the records relating to your family and the puppies. Once I found your address, I came here to intercept my half-brother and teach him a lesson!"

"Yes, yes, very fascinating and clever," said Stewie with a yawn. "And we can see how well that turned out. Anything else you have to say, Bertram?"

"You shall never hear the end of me, Stewart!" Bertram shouted, and he began struggling in Stewie's grasp. "Even if I have to follow you and your _boyfriend_ to the ends of the Earth, I shall have my revenge!"

"Yeah, Bertram, you want to know what I have to say to that?" replied Stewie in a bored tone. "I say, first of all, that you're a hypocrite, because you yourself are spouting countless clichés. And second, I say that there will be no possible way for you to follow me to the ends of the Earth, because I'm going to kill you right here and now."

And with that, Stewie raised his sword, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes; but before he could plunge it downward, Brian's paw grabbed his wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the dog yelled at Stewie. "Look, if we're outlaws, that's one thing. But do you really want us to be murderers, too?"

"Well, I don't know," said Stewie calmly, "I suppose that it would eliminate the problem." He gestured to the now terrified Bertram, still trapped underneath him.

"Stewie, just let him go," said Brian, shaking his head. "You don't need to prove anything to anybody; now just get him out of here and we can get back to dealing with all of this."

Stewie glared at Brian, then Bertram, and the sword in his hands shook; then he relented, and stood up, freeing Bertram. "Go away and don't ever come back, else I _will_ kill you," he said lowly, bringing the sword point to Bertram's chin.

"Understood," Bertram replied, and stood to his feet. "Well, Stewart, Brian. I suppose this is goodbye."

"Yeah," Stewie said, going back to Brian, "hopefully permanently." Brian nodded in agreement.

"In that case, so be it," said Bertram, and he started to turn around — but then he spun back to face Brian and Stewie and ran forward, punching them out of the way. Before they could get up or even register what had happened, Bertram had grabbed the walkie-talkie, scaled the fence, and pressed the 'talk' button, laughing evilly all the while.

"Fools!" he shouted, and jumped over the fence into the night beyond.

* * *

"I can't believe this!" Alyssa shouted angrily, pointing at Jasper. "He made out with your baby and you're going to forgive him, just like that?" 

"Well, not _exactly_," said Peter, shrugging. "But hey, it looks like Lois wants to hear him out first, and what's wrong with that?" He smiled cheerfully. "Everything'll be _just_ fine."

He couldn't have been more wrong; for Lois was, at this moment, searching frantically for her baby. "Stewie?" she called. "_STEWIE!_ Oh, God, where is he? I hope he's in the house, he _has_ to be in the house — I'm going to go and look!" she shouted distractedly, but before she could go in Joe wheeled his chair back up to them, his jaw set.

"The search for my son is gonna have to wait, you guys, we're getting an anonymous tip," he said, and held up his radio. "We just received a call that said that this is _not_ Brian," he pointed to Jasper, and the family gasped, "and that the _real_ Brian is currently in the backyard with Stewie."

"Well, then who the hell is this?" said Peter, stepping back away from Jasper, who was sweating visibly now.

"I have a hunch," Lois growled suddenly, and she stalked forward and messed with the hair on Jasper's head, shaping it into its usual arrangement. "_Jasper..._" she growled in a very serious tone of voice that meant trouble.

"H-hi, Lois," said Jasper in his normal voice, with a very nervous smile.

* * *

"Ow..." Brian muttered, pushing himself up off the ground. He pulled his collar back down around his neck, returning to his normal look, and checked himself for injuries. Bertram hadn't managed to hurt him that much, but he was still very sore. "...are you all right, Stewie?" 

"I'm fine, Brian," Stewie muttered, pulling himself up also. "Got a little scratched and dented, but that's about it." He glanced to his overalls nonchalantly. "Oh, would you look at that. One of the loops on my outfit managed to slide off."

"Here, let me get that," said Brian automatically, and he reached for the strap, but at that moment the back door and gate both burst open at the same time and thirty-four cops streamed into the backyard, Joe and Alyssa among them. All of them cocked their tranquilizer guns and pointed them at Brian and Stewie, glaring menacingly at them.

Lois, Chris, Meg and Peter followed through the back door and gasped in shock. What they saw was Stewie, still sitting on the ground, in front of Brian. The dog had a paw on the strap of the baby's overalls, which had slipped off. In fact, for all intents and purposes, it looked like Brian was undressing Stewie.

"It's the fuzz!" Stewie whispered in shock, looking around at the police officers. He then adopted a suave smile and an even tone of voice. "_Good_ evening, officers."

"Oh my God, Brian, what the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted Lois, pushing through the crowd and scooping Stewie up in her arms. "And here we were, all of us ready to forgive you!"

"Yeah, Brian, we thought you'd changed! A momentary lapse in judgment, temporary insanity, whatever!" added Peter. Behind him, Jasper (still in handcuffs), Ricardo, and the puppies came to the back door also, wearing expressions of shock. "And here _you_ are, about to undress Stewie there!"

"_SHUT UP!_" shouted Stewie suddenly, giving Peter the finger. "Just _SHUT THE HELL UP, BOTH OF YOU!_" He squirmed out of Lois's arms, kicking at her chest; before she finally let go involuntarily and he dropped to the ground, running to stand beside Brian.

"You — you — _you_ — _ALL_ of you!" Stewie bellowed, pointing a finger at each of the people in the crowd. "You see one thing and then you automatically assume the worst! The truth is just too complex for your narrow little minds, is that it? Because _it sure the hell seems like it!_ My God, do you ever get _claustrophobic_ in those tiny things?"

He was pacing back and forth in front of a shocked Brian, sweating with anger and adrenaline. "_I_ came on to _him!_" Stewie said suddenly, gesturing back to Brian. "_ME!__** I**__ DID IT! _Not him, _me!_" He stopped and put his hands on his hips, glaring up at Lois and Peter. "If you want to blame anybody, blame _me,_ but I'm _not sorry!_ He and I can be together now thanks to my involvement and that's _all_ that I'm concerned with! If that's too much for you, then you can go to hell for all I care. But Brian and I are an item now and _there's not a fucking thing you can do about it!_"

He stopped his rant, panting, his fists clenched as he gazed up at his parents. Joe and the rest of the officers were staring at Stewie in shock; behind Joe, Alyssa slowly reached across his waist to grip the gun strapped to his side, slowly tugging it out of its holster. Joe, his eyes still fixed on Brian and Stewie, didn't notice.

"What's he saying, Peter?" Lois muttered nervously, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I — I'm not sure, Lois," Peter said, staring down at Stewie, "but it seems like he doesn't want us to be doin' that to Brian..."

"Oh, for _God's sake!_" Stewie exploded, jumping upward and grabbing Peter's shirt. "None of you _ever listen to me!_" he shouted in Peter's face. "Does my opinion mean _nothing_ to you? Do you think you can just _ignore_ me and write it off as childhood angst? Is that it? Is it that _you_ think that nothing I say has any significance? Well, _this_ is the most significant thing I've ever said in my entire life, so you'd _better damn well pay attention!_"

Stewie slapped Peter and jumped down off of him; then he scurried back to Brian, hugging him and glaring at the family. Brian nervously patted Stewie's shoulder before looking up at them. "Peter, Lois ... what he's trying to say ... what _I'm_ trying to say ... is that ..." he paused, "I'm sorry."

"What?" Stewie said in shock and anger, looking up at Brian. "That's not what I'm saying at all!"

"Shush," Brian said automatically, then looked back at what used to be his family. "Listen ..." he sighed. "Whatever Jasper told you guys, that's the truth. I didn't want any of this to happen, to you, or Stewie, or any one of you." He looked at each of the cops in the circle, his gaze sincere. "If you're still convinced I'm a pervert, then maybe I am, and so be it. But if not, then all I want is your guys' forgiveness, and a place to call home again. Is ..." he paused once more, "...is that really too much to ask?"

"For someone like _you_," came a low, threatening voice, "it is."

Brian whirled around. Alyssa was standing in front of him, her gaze hateful, and clutching Joe's gun in both hands. Before anyone could react, she cocked it, pulled the trigger...

And shot Brian through the heart.

Brian's eyes widened and he fell backward, his chest pouring blood. Time seemed to slow down and the sounds around him died away as he fell hard, hitting the ground with a distant THUD. Blood gushed from the gunshot wound and stained his collar, his fur, the grass — his entire world was a blur of red, encompassing him, enveloping him.

Stewie gave a shout and ran to Brian's side, as around him, chaos erupted. The squadron of policemen surged forward toward Alyssa, surrounding her and tackling her to the ground, while beside them, the family pushed forward to come stand next to Brian. Lois and Peter looked as if they couldn't believe what had just happened and kneeled down next to him wordlessly, while behind them, Chris, Meg, Jasper and Ricardo looked on in pure shock. But it was Stewie who clutched Brian's paw in his hands, Stewie whose eyes were trailing tears, and Stewie who leaned in close to talk to Brian, and his words were distant...

"Brian," he was saying, and his voice was uncharacteristically emotional. "Brian, please — please don't ... you're going to be fine, Brian. I'll work up a solution; you're going to be just ... fine..." Stewie suppressed a sob.

Even through the haze surrounding his mind, Brian knew it was useless. "It's all right, Stewie ..." he whispered, and every word cost him effort, "...I'm ... here..."

"Brian, please don't die," Stewie gasped, clutching the dog's paw. "Please don't die, Brian, I need you. I need you..."

"You'll ... be ... fine," Brian whispered, and he covered Stewie's hand with his other paw. "Take ... care of yourself."

"Brian, no!" Stewie shouted, his voice cracking. "Brian, d-don't — don't give up; we'll think of something! Please ... please don't —"

Brian smiled sadly. "It's ... too ... late, Stewie," he said softly, then coughed, and blood poured from his mouth. "It's t-too ... late..."

Stewie's eyes were full of countless tears. "Brian, please... this is all my doing," he sobbed. "A-all of this is my fault ... please ... please let me correct it..."

"I would ... if I could," Brian said, with another sad smile. "...S-Stewie?"

"Y-yeah, Brian?"

"Love ... you," Brian whispered.

Then he closed his eyes.

And his paw went limp in Stewie's hand.


	16. Restoration

"No," Stewie gasped. "No. _No! NO, DAMN YOU! NO!_" He collapsed onto Brian's bloody chest, sobbing.

"S-Stewie..." Lois said sadly, coming to his side, "c-come on, Stewie ... let's get you out of here..."

"No. _NO!_" Stewie shouted again, pushing her away. "Get away from me, you matriarchal tyrant! I _have_ to solve this, I _have_ to! He _needs me! BRIAN NEEDS ME!_"

"C-c'mon, Stewie ... up you go..." Peter said with effort, bending down to pick up his son. Stewie struggled with all his might, fighting against it, resisting it. "NO! No, let me go! Let me down so I can fix this! I can do this! I can d-do it!"

He tried to fight back another wave of tears but could not, and he finally collapsed, sobbing, in Peter's arms. "Brian ... Brian..." he muttered into Peter's shirt, at last letting all of his emotions out. "Oh, Brian..."

Even Peter understood that some occasions warranted silence, and so he and Lois carried Stewie back into the house wordlessly, climbing the stairs up to his room. Stewie eventually fell asleep in Peter's arms, and that's how they laid him in his crib; his thumb was in his mouth. Lois came to stand beside Peter, her hand on his shoulder, as the two of them looked down at their mourning son.

"H-he really did like Brian," said Peter at length, his voice soft. "A lot."

"I know he did, Peter," Lois replied, equally softly. "We both do."

And they hugged each other close before leaving Stewie's room, clicking the light off and shutting the door, and the baby's world was plunged into darkness.

Immediately Stewie's eyes shot open and he jumped out of his crib, hurriedly shedding his pajamas in favor of his normal yellow shirt and overalls. He ran over to his toy chest and shoved it aside, keying in a code on a hidden keypad; a wall of his room then fell away to reveal his secret fortress, massive and chock-full of the latest in technology.

Stewie pattered through it wordlessly, bypassing the secret weapons for killing Lois and the shrink machine he had used in Peter's testicles, coming at last to the scientific area of the lab. This was the place where he had developed the fatal chemical that had turned Brian gay, and it was here that he had to work now, and fast, if there was to be any hope left for Brian.

"Don't give up yet, Brian," he muttered, and he began pouring the contents of a test-tube into another, causing a small explosion. "I'm coming for you."

* * *

The rest of the family had gathered in the dining room; all of them were sitting around the table, not talking or looking at one another. The police had departed in order to "take care of" Alyssa, but before they had left, Joe had placed his hand on Peter's shoulder to pull him aside, addressing him sadly. 

"I'm sorry, Peter," he had said softly. "I know he hadn't made the best choices as of late, but ... he was our friend, and nothing on Earth will ever change that." He slowly began wheeling himself away, but turned back one last time. "Don't forget the good in him, Peter. Everyone has some, but Brian had ... he still had a lot of it." A pause. "Take care."

And that was how he had left the sad and broken family. The clock in the dining room counted the seconds going by; its soft ticking was the only thing that could be heard. Jasper was particularly affected: All of them were trying to hold back what was on their mind, but he couldn't help an occasional sniffle now and then, and there were tears slowly tracing a path down his face.

"I can't believe he's gone," he said finally, breaking the silence. Ricardo nodded mutely from beside him.

"I don't think any of us can," said Lois; she was rubbing her eyes. "I ... I don't know what to feel."

"What do you mean?" asked Jasper quietly. The puppies, who were gathered in a circle behind him, were sleeping — all except for one, who came up behind Jasper to nuzzle his hand. Jasper looked down, picking the puppy up, and stroked its head-fur slowly; the pup made something like a purring noise and drifted off to sleep in its father's arms.

"I ... I mean..." Lois said slowly, her voice heavy. "I was so angry with him. Beforehand, when I thought he had done all of that to Stewie ... I don't think I've ever been so angry at anyone. I practically _hated_ him ... and now..." She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. "Now, he's gone, and I won't ever get a chance to make up with him."

"Do ... d'you think we should ... y'know, get him out of there?" asked Peter hesitantly, with a glance at the back door. All of them knew that Brian's body was still out there, lying bloodied and bruised in the middle of the grass. Nobody had been able to bear going out to move him yet.

"We will," said Lois, blowing her nose again. "But not yet. Not now. I just, I just ... can't."

"I never got to tell him how much he really meant to me," Meg muttered, tracing a pattern on the table with her finger.

"I never got to say how grateful I was that he got me away from Alyssa," said Chris, his gaze distant.

"I never got to properly thank him for all that he did for us..." Jasper murmured, still stroking the sleeping puppy's ears. A lump rose in his throat, and he whispered, "Ricardo and I will take the puppies upstairs."

They departed, slowly gathering their children and leaving the dining room. The rest of the family watched them go, then turned back to the table, and another silence fell over the room.

"What will this do to Stewie?" asked Lois at last, and she wiped her eyes, which were also trickling tears. "He and Brian fought constantly, but they were so close ... how on Earth is he going to be able to get past this?"

"I don't know," said Peter, putting a hand on Lois's shoulder, "but he's asleep now, and has no worries ... and he can escape into dreamland, where even the most crazy idea is true, and Brian's ... still alive."

* * *

"A-HA!" Stewie shouted, and he held a test tube full of fizzling green liquid up high above his head. He had been experimenting for hours, testing chemical after chemical ... and now here, finally, was the end result. "At last, I _have it!_" 

He quickly cast the test-tube down, then grabbed a knife from one of the nearby storage areas. Without hesitation he raised his hand and drew the blade across his finger, cutting it deeply. He then cast the knife aside and picked up the test tube, dumping the liquid into a needle — and then he put the point into his arm and injected the tiniest amount of the new chemical into his system.

Stewie watched the wound on his finger as he did this, and presently a huge, conspiratorial grin spread across his face. "Excellent."

* * *

Jasper and Ricardo had borrowed Meg's room (she had moved into Chris's for the time being), and they now settled each of the puppies down in their own miniature crib. They each had a nameplate on the end; in fact, there was now only one puppy without a name. 

"He's Seth," Jasper muttered softly, looking at each of the sleeping puppies. "She's Alex ... he's Mike, he's David, and she's Kara and she's Mila..." He gave a glance down at the last pup; he was still asleep in Jasper's arms. "But you ... you still need a name."

Jasper stroked the puppy's head-fur softly. "You know what?" he whispered at last. "Your name will be ... Brian."

And he gently placed the last puppy in his crib, pulling the covers up and tucking him in. The pup gave a happy little squeak, sighing in its sleep, and snuggled into the pillow before settling, his chest rising and falling slowly.

Jasper and Ricardo watched all of their children with a mixture of pride and deep sadness, their arms around one another. They stayed like that for a moment, their eyes shining; then there was a knock at the door, and Jasper turned around to answer it.

No sooner had he opened the door by two feet than Stewie tumbled in, clutching Rupert in one hand and a needle in the other. "_You!_" he shouted, whirling around and pointing at Jasper. "Come with me!"

"What?" Jasper asked, stepping backward. "What's going on, Little Man?"

"There's no time for an explanation, now _come on!_" Stewie shouted, whirling around again and bolting for the door. Behind him, Jasper whispered to Ricardo, "Stay here and watch the kids; I'll be back in a moment."

And he followed Stewie out of the bedroom and into the hallway; it was difficult to keep up with the baby, as he was running at top speed — down the stairwell, though the living room, and into the kitchen, never pausing for breath. Finally he skidded back to a halt at the back door and doubled over, panting and holding his stomach. Jasper caught up with him, putting a hand on his back, and asked, "What are you _doing?_"

"_I,_" Stewie said, glaring Jasper in the eye, "am about to restore Brian's life! Now if you'll come with me, I can show you just how I'm going to go about doing that!"

Jasper, stunned, didn't respond immediately. "Look, Stewie..." he sighed, his voice heavy, "...Brian's ... gone. I know it's hard to accept... but ..."

"NO!" Stewie bellowed in Jasper's face, advancing on him; Jasper, bewildered, backed away, holding his paws up. "You don't _listen!_ I have a way to save him, I'm absolutely _certain_ of it! Now hurry up and _follow_ me!"

Without a second thought he turned around and jumped up to open the back door, diving forward into the backyard. Jasper followed cautiously, not sure what Stewie was up to, but certain that it couldn't be the miracle he promised.

And there was Brian, still lying in the yard; his fur was messy, his collar ripped, and his blood had pooled in the grass underneath him. Jasper looked at his cousin and felt a wave of conflicting emotions — a terrible sadness, an overwhelming nausea, a furious anger at Alyssa — but before he could fight any of it back, Stewie had scurried up to Brian's side and grabbed the dog's arm, testing the needle in his other hand.

"Just a minute, little man!" Jasper shouted, and he stalked toward Stewie, eyeing the needle closely. "What is _that_ supposed to accomplish?"

"This needle," Stewie said, showing it to Jasper, "is filled with another chemical, one that will reverse everything that Brian's body has gone through within the past week. Blood loss, heart trauma, suppressed emotions, pulse patterns — all of it will happen as if someone had just hit 'rewind' on their video player, thereby restoring his system!"

Jasper blinked. "...W-what? Are ... are you sure?"

"Yes! I've tested it on myself; look!" Stewie showed Jasper his finger, which looked perfectly normal and natural. "Do you see this? I deliberately sliced my skin open with a knife barely a moment ago, and all of it has healed! For all intents and purposes, it never happened!"

Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. "Well ... if you want to try it, I suppose there's ... nothing else to lose, really," he sighed. "But I have a question, little man. You say everything that happened in the last week will be reversed ..." He looked up at Stewie, his gaze accusing. "Does that include the part where you turned him gay in the first place?"

Stewie, who had been about to bring the needle down, faltered. "...I-I ... well ... yes, it shall," he finally admitted uncomfortably. "Although it goes against my own wishes, I must say ... yes. Brian will go back to normal, the way he was originally. Except," he added, "his aging process will still be slowed. Which also applies to any relatives he may have, by the way, so you and your puppies will be able to enjoy a nice, full life with Philippino Boy."

Jasper's eyes widened. "I ... how did ... that's ... quite amazing, Little Man," he finally admitted. "Thank you." He cast his gaze downward, at his unmoving, bloodied cousin, and bit his lip. "Stewie, I honestly don't think this is going to work, but ... you can try. The best we can do is —"

"—Is to hope, yes," Stewie finished, readying the needle. "I'm aware, Jasper."

And, with a grimace, Stewie gingerly poked the tip of the needle into Brian's shoulder and pressed downward. The liquid flowed out of the tube into Brian's bloodstream, fizzling and crackling with energy, until at last there was none left; Stewie then tossed the needle aside and looked down at Brian with bated breath.

Brian didn't move.

Stewie clutched Rupert close and nibbled on his fingernails; Jasper came to stand beside him, placing a paw on his shoulder and also watching Brian. "Come on, dog," Stewie murmured, clutching Rupert close in his arms. "Please, Brian. For me." He paused. "For us."

Still nothing happened. Then —

Brian's paw twitched. His chest began rising and falling. He mumbled something — and before Jasper and Stewie could blink, Brian's body began changing. The hole in his chest was closing; blood was replenishing itself throughout his body. The scratches and bruises he had gotten throughout the night were healing, vanishing away as if someone were drawing an eraser across them. And Brian was breathing steadily, his pulse all over the map but slowly going back to normal, and his eyes were opening. He blinked, then sat up, in front of Stewie and Jasper's astonished gazes.

"Well, what do you know," he said at last; he was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm alive!"

"_YES!_" Stewie shouted, and he engulfed Brian in a hug, laughing with relief. Tears were again falling from his eyes, but these were ones of happiness; and Brian did the same as he returned the hug. Jasper also gave another relieved shout, and Brian and Stewie joined him in the hug; they stayed like that for several moments, just relieved to be with each other again, before they separated, all of them scarcely able to believe what they had just witnessed.

"Stewie, I — I don't understand," Brian said, shocked. "What happened? Why do I feel ..." he paused, "..._normal?_ I don't feel attracted to you any more." He glanced toward the house, his eyes widening. "I feel like I'm ... lusting after Lois all over again!"

"He turned you back to normal, cousin," Jasper smiled, placing a paw on Brian's shoulder. "_Completely_ normal."

"Y-you did?" Brian asked, addressing Stewie. "Really?" He paused, glancing sideways, before asking, "...Why?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Brian," Stewie scoffed, batting his hand. "After seeing what you went through after becoming attracted to me? I felt like I simply _had_ to; wouldn't you?"

"I won't argue with that," Brian admitted, then started. "Wait a minute." He looked at Stewie shrewdly. "So it wasn't that I was just turned gay; you also fixed it so I'd go after _you_? Becoming a pedophile, and all that?"

Stewie shuffled his feet, uncharacteristically nervous. "The chemical was designed predominantly to turn you into a homosexual," he finally admitted, "but I'd also added a bit that would make you ... well ... attracted to me. So, yes, you're correct." He looked back up at Brian and Jasper, his eyes shining. "Can either of you find it in your hearts to ... let bygones be bygones?"

"You needn't worry, Little Man," Jasper laughed. "I forgive you. You brought my cousin back to life; how can I stay mad at you?" He then looked over at Brian, his smile fading. "The real question, though, is whether or not _Brian_ forgives you. _He's_ the one to apologize to, after all."

"And that is what I'm doing," Stewie said, coming forward, and he grabbed Brian's paw in his hands. "Brian ..." he paused, then said at last, "I'm sorry." His eyes never left Brian's, his gaze unblinking. "Do you forgive me?"

Brian didn't respond for a moment, only gazed back at Stewie ... and then he smiled. "'Course I do, Stewie," he said, hugging his friend. "Like Jasper said, I owe you my life — a life that _you_ managed to extend, on top of things. Anything you did beforehand has more than been redeemed, I say."

"You know, you must really love him," Jasper said quietly, a small smile on his face. "To give him up like that, I mean. You turned him back to normal even knowing that it would cost you any chance you had with him."

Stewie, still in the hug, didn't respond at first, but then smiled. "Of course I did," he said, "he's my friend. My partner-in-crime, my confidant — and my accomplice." He laughed, patting Brian on the back, and the two of them separated. "So, Brian."

"Yeah, Stewie?" Brian smiled.

"Did you meet God?" Stewie asked, gently nudging his friend with his elbow.

"Oh, yeah," Brian replied, standing up, and Jasper and Stewie followed suit. "He's a nice guy."

"Is he really, really tall? I heard he's tall," Stewie commented as he picked up Rupert, and the three of them began to head back into the house.

"Sorta," Brian shrugged. "He's a real party animal, loves his beer — oh, and his son does, too."

Jasper laughed. "My stars, I'm almost sorry I missed that."

"Oh, and Brian?" Stewie said, stopping for a moment. He seemed a tad embarrassed. "I apologize for the slightly melodramatic death-and-revival scenes."

"Hey, it's okay," Brian said with a grin, and he smacked Stewie lightly on the arm. "I had a part in 'em too, you know..."

"Over-dramatic or not, they _were_ touching," Jasper argued, but stopped, because a familiar figure had suddenly materialized in front of them. It was a tall, gray, hooded _thing_, holding a scythe and looking down at the three of them (well, it seemed like it, since they couldn't see his eyes).

"Oh my God," Stewie muttered. "_Death!_" He immediately stepped in front of Brian, his arms spread. "Don't you _dare_ touch him!" he shouted. "He's alive, so you'd best be off back to where you came from!"

"Aw,_ man_," groaned Death, pulling out his famous list. "You're tellin' me I got the wrong address _again?_ Huh. Must've mixed this case up with Loretta Lynn's." He lowered the list and sighed; then he did a double take. "Hey, I know you guys," he said, pointing at Brian and Stewie. "You're the ones I always seem to hang out with when I come here! Well, enjoy yourselves. Shouldn't be your time for awhile yet." He started to turn away, but then added, "A helpful tip, though. Don't stay too close to that Alyssa chick." And he raised his scythe above his head, and disappeared again.

Brian, Stewie and Jasper stared at the spot where he had vanished, blinking dumbly, before Stewie turned to the other two and remarked, "Well. That was a close one." And he continued walking toward the back door, with Brian and Jasper hastily following his lead.

The three of them reached the house, and Jasper pulled the door open, making his way into the kitchen. "Hey, everybody," he called out to the rest of the family. "Look who I found out in the backyard!"

"What, Jasper?" came Lois's voice, and she emerged into the kitchen, holding a tissue to her nose. "What do you —"

She spotted Brian, and the handkerchief fluttered out of her hand to the ground. "Oh my ... this can't be ... _BRIAN!_" she finally shouted, and she ran for him, collapsing to her knees and engulfing the dog in another hug. "Oh my God, I can't believe it!" she gasped, kissing his cheek. "I thought ... I thought we'd lost you!"

"Hey, Lois, what's all the commo— BRIAN!" came Peter's voice, and he too dove for his friend, joining Lois in the tight hug. "Aw, Brian, I _knew_ you hadn't kicked the bucket, I just _knew_ it! You're tough; you've seen worse — I _knew_ you'd pull through!"

Chris, Meg and Ricardo also made their way into the kitchen, and cries of, "Brian!" "Oh my gosh, Brian!" "I can't believe it!" "I knew you weren't dead!" and "Does this mean we don't have to give away your stuff?" filled the room (from all save Ricardo). Brian's tail wagged happily as the family hugged him. He couldn't believe it: He wasn't dead, he was home safe, and by the looks of things, everybody had forgiven him. It had turned out better than he could ever have hoped for.

At last the family separated, all of them smiling happily; Peter leaned down and gave Brian a playful nudge with his elbow. "So, we're good, right?" he asked cheekily. "No more tryin' to make out with the baby, an' all?"

"_Peter!_" said Lois severely, her hands on her hips. Peter's eyes widened. "_What?_" he asked, as Lois glared at him.

"No, no, Lois, it's fine," Brian said, waving a paw. "And the answer, by the way, is yes. I won't do it again ... and I'm sorry that I did," he said at length. He rubbed his paws together nervously. "I just hope we can put it all behind us."

"Aw, don't worry, Brian," Peter laughed, and the rest of the family nodded in agreement. "We forgive ya. Temporary insanity, that's all it was, huh?"

Brian glanced over at Stewie, who was also grinning shrewdly.

_"Something_ like that," Brian said finally.


	17. Epilogue

_Several months later..._

* * *

"Arise, dog!" came a voice that jolted Brian out of his sleep. "Wake up and be productive! It's Christmas, Brian, and if you think I'm celebrating it alone, you're the most mistaken that you've ever been!" 

Stewie had been jumping up and down on Brian, who had retreated to sleep on the floor of Stewie's room because Peter and Lois had decided to "get intimate" as a Christmas Eve celebration. Stewie continued to try to get Brian to wake up, doing everything from yanking off his blanket to slapping his face. Brian made several sputtering sounds before finally sitting up, pushing Stewie's hands away.

"All_ right_, all _right_," he groaned resignedly. "I'm up."

He glanced at Stewie's bedside clock. "Stewie, what the hell? It's six o'clock in the morning!"

"Oh, lighten up, Brian," Stewie said nonchalantly. "It's _Christmas_ morning, what'd you expect? Besides, the Fat Man and Lois are already downstairs, as are Chris and Meg. We're the last ones to awaken; now let's get downstairs so we can receive the gifts!"

"And give some of our own, right?" Brian asked, stowing his pillowcase away before grabbing his Christmas sweater and pulling it on.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Stewie scoffed, and the two of them headed to the hallway and descended the staircase.

The family was waiting for them: As they reached the Christmas tree, Lois swooped over to Stewie and scooped her up in his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek (much to his chagrin). "Merry Christmas, my little baby angel. Oh, you were _so_ wonderful in the pageant last night, just like last year."

Beside Lois, Peter kept making little "cuckoo" signs around his head while pointing to his wife, and also doing the "I'm scared" motion towards Brian, who sighed and rolled his eyes. "Peter, I keep telling you that last year was a one-time thing. Lois will _not_ go crazy this Christmas, all right? So you might as well relax and enjoy it."

"Yeah, well, you might want to have your car warmed up for a quick getaway, just in case," Peter whispered back nervously. "Hey, you got it fully restored, right?"

"That 'e did, thanks to Geico!" came a heavily accented little voice, and Peter and Brian looked down. A green gecko had emerged and was now addressing them in an Cockney accent. "Y'see, all 'e had to do was go to Geico-dot-com, an' get a free rate quote! Geico. Fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insur— ACK!"

Peter had raised his foot and now squashed the little gecko flat, turning him into nothing more than a disgusting (albeit festive) green stain on the carpet.

"Man, I _hate_ that annoying little lizard!" Peter said angrily.

"Hmm, not very Christmassy," Stewie said as Lois set him down. "God, that miniature reptile is even worse off than Alyssa was after she was hauled off to jail..."

* * *

Alyssa sighed, reclining on the bed in her cell. It wasn't very comfortable, and by the looks of things she'd be sleeping on it for a very, very long time. Behind her, the bars of her cell clanged open and someone stepped inside. 

"Number 159771, meet your new cellmate," came a guard's voice, and a big, beefy woman with spiky hair and lots of tattoos came to stand up beside Alyssa, her arms crossed. Alyssa sat up nervously, wondering what her problem was.

"Hey, I know you," said the woman at length. "You're that one gal who done shot the gay dog on the news."

"Yes," Alyssa growled, standing up, "and I'm _not_ sorry I did it! How he survived is beyond me, but society needs less people like him. It goes against the Bible, for one thing; and for another, it's just _not natural_."

"Oh, is that so?" smiled the beefy woman. "Well, you won't be thinkin' that in about five minutes, sister. You've got till then to strip and get in the shower. I'll be watching."

Alyssa gulped. This would not go well.

* * *

Stewie scurried over to underneath the Christmas tree, picking up one of his presents and shaking it before starting to unwrap it. Brian followed him, and Stewie said, "You know, Brian, in spite of myself I've come to enjoy the holidays." 

"Oh, yeah?" Brian asked. "Do tell."

"Well," Stewie said thoughtfully. "I have the whole rest of my life to take over the world, enslave its people, and rule with a merciless iron fist. But for now, I'm a baby, dammit, and it's Christmas! It _can_ be fun — presents, parties, _food_..."

"Won't argue with you there," replied Brian; he had finished unwrapping Peter's present. "Lord knows I love a good martini, no matter what the party. Thanks, Peter," he added.

"No problemo, Brian," Peter said cheerfully, but then his smile grew mischievous. "But, uh, what exactly did I give you?"

"Peter, you _know_ what this is," Brian said, showing him the present.

"Come on, Brian, tell me!" Peter giggled.

"Peter, I'm not gonna —"

"Go on!" Peter was nearly in hysterics now.

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed resignedly. "You gave me another bone—"

"—ER!!" Peter finished, throwing up his hands (and also the ornament he had been holding) and dancing around with glee. "You got a BONER!! Hey, everybody, Brian just said I gave him a _boner_!! Eeeew!!" Peter rolled on the floor with laughter.

"_Peter!_" Lois said severely, as she crossed her arms and glared at him. "Didn't we agree _months_ ago that we wouldn't make jokes about that, after everything that had happened?"

"Aw, c'mon, Lois, who cares?" Peter chortled, wiping his eyes. "Everybody seems to have forgotten all about it by now anyway."

* * *

"Diane, I'm standing here at the press conference that police officer Joe Swanson has just called, waiting to see just what the police have to tell Quahog," explained Asian reporter Tricia Takinawa, her tone as bored as usual. The news camera panned from her to the stage, where Joe rolled his chair up to the podium and bent the microphone down so he could reach it while sitting. 

"I have just been informed by Brian's family that he was _not_, in fact, killed by his gunshot wound, and that he is alive and safe in his family's home," Joe said professionally. "They have asked that any charges against him be dropped."

The crowd, which included the entire town except for the Griffins, began muttering amongst themselves anxiously.

"Now, now," said Joe, holding his hands up for silence, "I have also been informed that what we saw on the news was _not_ what we think it was."

"Which doesn't matter in the slightest, because _all of you_ are going to forget about it, starting right now!" came a voice, and Stewie suddenly appeared, leaping from behind the podium on to the stage. Before anybody could register what they had seen, he had pulled out The Device — the gun that he had used on the judge in the courtroom, so long ago — and zapped the entire crowd with it; then he had turned and vaulted off the stage, disappearing into some nearby bushes and fleeing for home.

The entire town of Quahog stood still for a moment, blinking stupidly. Quagmire was the first to come out of the trance.

"Uh, I forget," he said, looking around. "What are we doing here?"

"I have no idea," Cleveland responded, and the rest of the crowd began talking amongst themselves again, each trying to figure out why exactly they had all gathered together.

"Well, we're not celebrating anything," said Joe from his place up on the stage — then he suddenly ripped his shirt off and popped a wheelie, spinning his wheelchair around and around. "That is, not_ yet! __PARTY!!!_"

With that, a dance tune began to play, and all of Quahog began jammin' to the beat.

* * *

"Yes," said Stewie, with a sideways glance, "it's very suspicious, isn't it?" 

"Brian should just feel lucky that I haven't made fun of his totally gay Christmas sweater!" Peter giggled, to Lois's great chagrin; she was positively fuming at him now. "Ooops, looks like I just did!" he added with another uproarious laugh.

Peter then turned around and he finally caught sight of Lois's expression; his look changed to one of worry. "I'll be out puttin' the snow tires on the car; back in a sec," Peter said hastily, and immediately ran out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Brian rolled his eyes and went to check on the fireplace (which had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere one day, just like last Christmas), but he was distracted; Chris and Meg were fighting over one of the presents under the tree.

"It's_ mine_!" Chris shouted, yanking on it.

"No, it's _mine!_" Meg responded just as childishly, pulling back.

"Grandma sent it to _me!_" Chris retorted with a tug.

"It's got both our names on it, fatass!" Meg shot back. "But mine's first!"

"Oh, for God's sake," said Stewie, exasperated, and he approached his siblings, looking up at the both of them. "Now then, I'll take care of this." He suddenly leaped upward, yanked the present out of their hands and tore off the wrapping paper; then he handed the result (two sweaters) back to Chris and Meg. "There you are. Merry Christmas, fools."

Jasper and Ricardo, who had been invited back for the holiday celebration, were playing with their kids; the puppies had grown significantly in size (almost their father's height) and started to talk, but hadn't managed sentences yet. "Mistletoe!" said one of them (Kara) in a squeaky voice, as she pawed at the little plant Ricardo was holding above her.

"Presents!" said another (David) happily; he was nibbling on one of the ribbons.

"Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men!" said the one named Brian. He chased one of his sisters around, giggling with glee.

Jasper laughed. "Or, all of the above," he added, patting each of the puppies' heads. "Merry Christmas, darlings!"

Brian smiled, then turned back to the tree. There were two presents left; one was addressed to him, the other to Stewie. "Hey, Stewie, you got one more under here," Brian called over his shoulder.

"What? Well, who is it from?" the baby asked, coming to receive the parcel.

"From me, of course," Brian smiled, then looked down at the present in his own hands, which said simply "For Brian" in scratchy, awkward handwriting. Brian looked back up at Stewie. "This is from you, isn't it?"

Stewie smirked. "Perhaps."

"All right, then let's both open ours at the same time," said Brian, putting a paw on the ribbon. "Ready? One, two, _three!_"

He and Stewie tore at the wrapping paper, shredding it to bits, until it last it all fell away and it was revealed that they had given each other the same present: A homemade, miniature doll of Lois.

"What the deuce?" said Stewie, turning his over in his hands. "Why, what's this for?"

"It's a voodoo doll," Brian smirked, pointing at its hair, which was indeed Lois's. "See, now you can use that to act out on all those plans you have to kill her, without actually doing it. She can be your own little stress buddy, or something."

"Well, that's actually quite practical, Brian," said Stewie, after a moment. "But you know, there's no substitute for the real thing..."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's mine for?" Brian asked, looking down at his own doll.

"Well," Stewie said, and it was he who was smirking this time, "you see, given how much you're _infatuated_ with her, I thought it only fitting that you have your own miniature version of the famous Lois. She can be _your_ own little friend, and this way you can ... oh, I don't know ... 'have' her."

Brian privately felt that this was, indeed, the closest he'd ever get to actually 'having' Lois ... which would make the urge to do some things to this doll quite strong. However, he'd resist (or at least, try); it would be better to preserve it. Brian, struck by the very personal nature of this present, looked back up at Stewie, who was still smirking. "This is ... well, I really like this, Stewie." A pause. "Thank you."

"Well, I'm glad you like it, Brian," said Stewie, with a glance at his own doll. "And I suppose you have my thanks as well." He seemed to think for a moment, then plucked one of the ornaments off of the tree, tore off the wire on top and bent out the curve. He then readied the tiny wire and plunged it straight into the little Lois's heart.

"Ha ha!" he said, stabbing her again. "Die, you vile bitch! Die! Die!"

Brian rolled his eyes. Yep, Stewie liked his gift, all right. "And that is the true spirit of Christmas, right there."

"What, unselfishly thinking of others, assured that our good behavior will be rewarded?" asked Stewie, with a nonchalant glance at Brian.

"You said the exact same thing in the pageant last night," Brian said, exasperated. "And in the one last year, come to think of it."

"Well, it's _true_," Stewie replied, standing up. "And what it shall ultimately bring is," he paused, "plutonium — and a nuclear missile."

"Please tell me that's not what Santa gave you this year," Brian groaned.

"I shall say no more on the matter," said Stewie mysteriously. "The fact remains, however, that during the Christmas season I was _A Good Boy_, so it should be only natural that I receive my compensation..."

"Wasn't there one more thing in that list of rewards?" Brian asked, as he too stood up and came to stand next to Stewie. "I seem to recall that there was something else..."

"What?" Stewie said, glancing up at Brian. "Love?"

Brian blinked. He was acutely aware that he and Stewie were looking straight into each other's eyes; that last word seemed to have drained the rest of the sound in the room, leaving just the two of them. Brian stayed like that for a moment, gulped, then finally spoke. "Well ... yeah."

"Oh, you can stop worrying, Brian," said Stewie with a roll of his eyes. "I've moved on."

"Have you really?" Brian asked quietly.

"Well," said Stewie in a matter-of-fact way, "I suppose there will be some part of me that always lusts after you. But yes, I've accepted things the way they are and am now looking at prospects for the future. That's what this time of year is all about, is it not?"

"That it is," Brian agreed, then hesitated, about to say something but unable to find the right words.

"What?" Stewie asked, glancing at him.

"Stewie, I do love you, in a way," Brian admitted at last. "You're a friend, a brother; a family member, even. Of course, I doubt many family members would be savagely beaten for not paying up fifty dollars in a timely manner, but still..."

Stewie raised an eyebrow. "Are you still on about that? That was months ago."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I suppose I am. But Stewie, listen. I like the way things are between us now, and I'm sure you do too. It's back to the old they-hate-each-other-but-somehow-they're-friends model. I'd hate for that to change again."

"What are you saying, Brian?" asked Stewie carefully.

"I'm saying that something like a fifty-dollar bet, or a misunderstanding, or a 'lover's spat' or anything at all, shouldn't mean the end of us hanging out together. I almost let that happen last time, but we got past it, and if we can get through that, well..."

"Then we're set for life," Stewie completed, smirking again.

"Exactly," Brian said with a smile. "As long as we know that nothing will get in the way, then ... we're set."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right, Brian," Stewie said. "And as for right now, well, it is the Season of Caring, is it not?"

"Well, yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" Brian asked.

"Because if it were any other time of year, then I wouldn't let either you or myself get away with what I'm about to do," Stewie replied, and then he stepped forward and hugged Brian. Surprised, Brian didn't respond immediately, but then he smiled and hugged Stewie back. They remained like that for several minutes, simply content to stay and listen to the familiar sounds of the season — carols on the radio; Jasper jingling bells throughout the house for the amusement of the puppies; Peter cursing as he tried to get the snow tires onto the family car. Brian rubbed Stewie's back warmly, and Stewie looked up at him and gave him a rare, genuine smile.

"Merry Christmas, Brian."

"Merry Christmas, Stewie."

* * *

THE END

* * *

_A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone. Thanks for reading. To everyone who reviewed: You are AWESOME, and all of you really made this whole thing worthwhile. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. :-)_

_Hope everyone has a safe and happy New Year!_


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